


לפני

by alatarmaia4



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Assorted Pagan Gods, Backstory, Biblical References, Gen, Historical References, Historical Shenanigans, Hopefully Accurate Ones, Lots of Gabriel Feels, Mainly Because I Totally Headcanon Aromantic Gabriel, Pairings are Only Temporary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-04-05 09:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 69,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4174725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatarmaia4/pseuds/alatarmaia4
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Title means 'before' in Hebrew] Gabriel has spent a lot of time on Earth, both before and after he left Heaven for good, but there's a lot of things that happened to him that we still don't know about - and a lot of trouble that he got up to. What did Gabriel do between Lucifer's fall and when the Winchesters unmasked him? Look no further to find out. T to be safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Heeeeey. So I got an idea into my head to write a story about what Gabriel's life was like before we saw him in Supernatural. The summary basically says it all. I don't go into a lot of detail except for specific scenes, and this kinda skips around. I borrow ideas and sort of throw in concepts from other works I've written, mainly because I have a lot of headcanons about this plotline that I've gained from other works that I read and went 'yeah. that's exactly it. Genius.'
> 
> And for reference, I will purposely be using 'they/them' and other gender neutral terms for everyone, since gender wasn't really invented until humans showed up.
> 
> In any case, enjoy!

* * *

In the beginning, there were a lot of things.

Namely, in the very Beginning, when there were technically only six beings in existence, but for now let's assume that the word 'things' applies to more than just creatures.

Let's say it applies to ideas, too.

If that is the case, then saying that there were 'a lot' of things is actually a gross understatement. There were only six _beings,_ though, so it's easier to just concentrate on them.

One of them, specifically, for now.

* * *

"Oh, there you are. How'd you get all the way over here, little one?"

The being turned around at the slightly irritable voice. If it had a more clearly defined head, it might have cocked it.

It didn't really speak, seeing as this particular being was rather new to the whole 'existing' thing and therefore didn't really know how [even though his species didn't really talk in the sense that we mean it, but that's a whole other discussion to be had]. The way they did communicate did involve a good deal of instinct, though, and so they managed to get across a vague questioning sense to the being who _had_ spoken. The latter made the equivalent of a grin.

"I'm Samael," they said, coming a bit closer but not walking like you or I would have defined it. "I'm your sibling."

 _Sibling?_ The younger being copied the word, mulling it over and unconsciously letting Samael listen too. There was another niggling, questioning sense.

"It means we were both created by the same Parent."

_Created? Parent?_

"It will be easier if They explain it."

There was a pause, and then another, more focused question. _What is Samael?_

"I am. It's my name." Samael explained patiently.

_Name?_

"It is...it is to help tell me apart from your other sibling. To define me."

 _My name?_ The question was more of a sense than any specific word, but the older being exuded a little more happiness at the question in an approximation of a smile.

"Of course you have a name. You are Gabriel."

* * *

_An undefinable amount of time later [depending on who you might ask, it was either ages or barely any time at all, if they had ever bothered to keep track of things like that]_

"Gabriel!"

Gabriel froze in the middle of what they were doing [nothing bad, honest! They were just curious!] but then immediately relaxed when it became apparent that Samael wasn't yelling because they were angry.

"What?"

"Our Parent wants to see you."

And just like that, Gabriel was all tense again.

"It's nothing bad," Michael reassured him. The eldest angel had always been more fiery than Samael, and the way they said it didn't do a whole lot to reassure Gabriel. "They just want to speak to you."

Hesitantly, Gabriel nodded.

* * *

Heaven is not really what we think it is. It's not really anything in particular, since all we humans ever see of it is the parts that change to be whatever we want. So we're not exactly getting the best view here.

In any case, let's pretend for a moment that Heaven has rooms [even though it doesn't] or at least something similar enough that we can just say it's a room and leave it at that. Let's pretend that there are tall swooping Grecian pillars and marble architecture even though that seems a little racist, since who says the Greeks and other European pre-Jesus civilizations had the only decent buildings?

We're getting off topic.

If Heaven did have a door, it probably would have creaked when Gabriel opened it. Well, maybe it wouldn't have. If Heaven had had doors, then Michael would probably be the type to go around fixing them all and keeping everything in pristine condition. Rusty, squeaky hinges absolutely would not do.

But it's also important to provide scenic cues like squeaky hinges when you're writing a scene as suspenseful or dramatic as this, so I'm going to say that this nonexistent Heavenly door did, in fact, squeak.

There was a Someone sitting inside. A very important Someone, as you can all probably guess.

As a personal conjecture, I think God is probably a lot like Heaven itself. They or He or She or whatever didn't really have a set appearance, and so They appear as whatever the beholder might think they would look like.

As an angel, Gabriel could get a little closer to seeing Their actual appearance, but for the sake of the story and as non-confusing writing as possible, let's give Them one fixed appearance.

Do me a favor and imagine Chuck Shurley. Except not him. They sort of look like him, in the way that if you saw Them off in the distance you might think it was Chuck, but once you get closer then you realize that it couldn't possibly be Chuck, how could you ever have made that mistake?

Anyway.

"Gabriel." Their voice was just as indefinable, but I think you got the point earlier so I'm not going to go through all of that again. "It's nice to properly see you."

"You're my...Parent?"

"I am." They gestured for Gabriel to come closer. "Come, come, child. You have nothing to fear from me."

Gabriel believed him.

They [meaning Gabriel, and all these 'theys' are going to get confusing soon] walked close enough that if they had wanted, Gabriel could have reached out and touched his Parent.

"You created Samael and Michael too?"

"I did." God smiled. "Do you like your siblings?"

"They're okay," Gabriel allowed. "Samael is calm and Michael is...not."

"That's one way to put it." God sounded almost amused, if that could possibly be the right word for it.

"Raphael never talks."

"Raphael can be rather quiet, can't they?"

Gabriel frowned, puzzling over the phrasing, while their Parent leaned a little closer and reached out. Gabriel was so intent on their thoughts that they didn't notice the motion until a handlike thing-

You know what? From here on out, I'm just pretending everyone's humanoid. It's much easier to write something that way. All this 'approximation' and 'vaguely' or '-like thing' is just getting irritating to have to type out.

Where were we?

Right.

Gabriel was so intent on their thoughts that they didn't notice the motion until a hand was very softly cupping their face.

Looking up at their Parent curiously, Gabriel leaned into the hand slightly. It felt nice. Michael, Samael, and Raphael were never particularly affectionate, and the most they had ever gotten from their older siblings was the occasional compliment or a smile.

Even so, Gabriel was pretty sure it wouldn't be as nice as this. There was a little sense in the back of their brain that told them that God was a special case when it came to everything.

God, as if They could guess Gabriel's thoughts, was smiling gently. The hand moved to brush over their hair and then retracted. "Yes," They murmured, almost to Themselves. "You're going to be very important one day, little one."

"Why?" Gabriel asked.

"All in good time, Gabriel. You'll understand when you're older."

* * *

"What did you call us here for?" The question was polite, like everything Michael did in the presence of their Parent.

"Something very important." God was smiling gently. There was a sort of dish-like thing which took up most of the space in the room - for the moment the usual disclaimer for this sort of thing can be put off - but didn't rise more than an inch above the floor, despite being much, much deeper, as well as completely empty. It was also much bigger than anything Gabriel had ever seen, and they stared at it curiously, almost overwhelmed by the sheer size.

Samael poked at it with their foot. "What is this for?"

"To help me show you." God moved to the side of it and knelt down, and the four archangels - they had begun to call themselves that, ever since their myriad [and lesser] siblings had been created - immediately copied the movement. With a glance at Their oldest, They reached out a hand. "Watch carefully."

The minute Their hand touched the inside of the dish, something amazing happened.

Something flashed at the very bottom, so far away that it was difficult to see exactly what was happening, but the flash spread, moving more quickly than anything Gabriel had ever seen and yet making very little progress covering the bowl.

"What is it?" Gabriel leaned forward, fascinated - had their Parent just created something new, in front of their eyes?

"Wait, Gabriel. You will see."

So they waited.

It took a while, but that time was nothing to an archangel and their Parent - they were infinitely patient, if the occasion called for it, and boredom was no issue with what was unfolding between their eyes.

The matter in the dish hadn't gone far before something else started unfolding within it - colors and all sorts of things that Gabriel had never seen before. It looked almost like their siblings, but that was impossible - and besides, what angel looked like that?

So transparent, drifting through the almost colorless save for the color it contained matter, condensing into bright fiery balls that glowed blue and orange and red and white, and gossamer rainbow _things_ which spun and grew before their eyes.

It was Samael who finally asked. "What is it?"

God's smile was wide and proud. "A universe."

* * *

It was Gabriel who first learned that they could enter what their Parent had created.

The matter - _universe -_ still took up barely any of the dish, but it was much bigger than it looked, and definitely _much_ bigger than Gabriel. They had flown - more like fluttered and stumbled - closer to get a better look, and then stumbled right into the thick of it.

Only to find out that it was _fascinating._

"Gabriel!" Raphael had come with them, and flew to Gabriel's side impatiently, only to find Gabriel giggling and floating haphazardly around a still-forming _star -_ at least, that was what their Parent had said it was called.

"What are you doing?"

"I just wanted to see."

Raphael made an exasperated noise and tugged Gabriel away, flying them both back to the edge of the dish. "You can't even fly," They pointed out. "What did you think you were going to do?"

"I didn't mean to to _in_ it," Gabriel protested. "I just wanted to take a closer look! It's _Their_ new creation."

"Which is exactly why you should leave it alone." Raphael started nudging Gabriel out of the room, but the latter latched on to the edge of the door.

"But I-"

"Yes, I heard you. You don't know what They have planned for that universe, Gabriel, now let go."

Gabriel clung on tighter. "I want to see it."

"You can't _fly_ yet."

"You could help me."

Raphael paused, and Gabriel wondered about the short silence in the conversation.

"You know," Raphael said conversationally, "Your wings are almost finished fledging."

"Really?" Gabriel spun around to try and look at them, and Raphael shut the door with a satisfied smile and a _click_ of the lock.

Gabriel scowled. "Mean."

"Whatever you say, Gabriel."

* * *

Flying was _amazing._

It was even better now that Gabriel could fly through the universe their Parent had created, and how it had changed!

Galaxies and nebulae and suns and stars and all sorts of new creations - it was thrilling for Gabriel to be able to explore under their own power.

Grinning, Gabriel shot past the nearest arm of a galaxy and careened across it, primaries skimming the edge of it and tossing up gas in their wake. They dodged around stars and larger suns, most bigger than Gabriel, which had at first astonished the archangel - how could anything be bigger than an archangel, unless it was another one of his siblings? But the new suns had grown so that some of them were even bigger than Michael, which might explain why the oldest never seemed interested in joining Gabriel.

Gabriel sped up as he neared the center of the galaxy, arching up and over to avoid the black hole in the middle. They had been surprised by one once, but luckily Samael had snatched them out of the way in time. Gabriel had no desire to repeat the experience.

They slowed down again once past it, more than they usually did, and Gabriel came to a stop near the outer edge of the galaxy.

There was something here that their Parent had been spending a lot of time making, and Gabriel was curious to see what it was.

It didn't look like much - just a tiny sun surrounded by various bits of gas and rock. Gabriel crouched around it, please to see that besides the sun, almost all of the planets that had formed so far were smaller than they were.

Gabriel looked at them carefully, even bending over to get a better look. "What's so important about these?" They muttered to themselves.

There were ten planets there, all in various stages of formation - one was only slightly bigger than Gabriel, but it was still mostly wisps of gas that hadn't fully bound together yet. Curious, Gabriel reached out for one of them, curling their body around it to get a better view and twisting around.

Gabriel froze when the new planet broke into pieces under their hands.

Whoops.

Gabriel tried to shove them back together, but the pieces kept drifting off, and why did everything have to _float_ in this universe unless there was something with gravity nearby?

Unfortunately, the accident hadn't gone unnoticed.

"Gabriel." Their Parent didn't sound upset, but there was enough disappointment in Their voice to make Gabriel droop. "Why were you over here?"

Gabriel looked at the pieces of planet still drifting and didn't answer, not wanting to look up at their Parent.

God sighed and took the pieces out of Gabriel's hand. "Oh well," They said quietly, and Gabriel got the feeling they weren't meant to hear. "I suppose nine is just as good."

"Sorry," Gabriel muttered.

"You didn't do it on purpose, Gabriel." Before Gabriel's eyes, the pieces they had accidentally created broke into even smaller bits, drifting chaotically over God's palm. "Why don't you go back home, while I see what I can do here."

* * *

This time, Raphael had accompanied Gabriel on their trip into their Parent's universe.

"I don't see what you find so interesting about all this."

"You don't think it's amazing?"

"Of course I do." If Raphael had proper arms, as we think of them, they might have crossed them. "It is our Parent's creation."

"That's not what I mean." Gabriel spread their wings wide as they arced over a sun, Raphael in close pursuit and dodging around a sunspot - they were unusually common in almost every star.

"Then what do you mean, Gabriel?"

"I mean this!" Gabriel soared away from the sun and darted through layers of the universe faster than any of its inhabitants could process. Raphael followed more slowly, having always been a more sedate flier. "Flying! Seeing what's down here! You don't think it's interesting?"

Raphael regarded Gabriel thoughtfully. "You find the inhabitants engaging?"

"Inhabitants?" Gabriel blinked. "What inhabitants? All these planets have got is a bunch of animals. I was talking about-" They gestured vaguely at the colorful green-and-blue nebula floating around them. " _This."_

Raphael stared at the nebulae as thoughtfully as they had looked at Gabriel. "It is certainly colorful," They said, wings creating open spaces where they passed through the gas that hung in the air - or where air would have been, if space had a proper atmosphere.

"That's all you have to say?"

"You have been down here more often than I," Raphael pointed out. "Perhaps you're not doing the best job of explaining what it is you find so fascinating?"

Gabriel was about to protest, when they stopped, an idea occurring.

"You know what? You're right." Raphael barely had time to look startled before Gabriel was tugging them elsewhere. "You should see the best stuff to do down here."

"Gabriel, where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere good!"

They were at their destination in barely any time at all, though for an archangel it had taken quite some time to get there. Gabriel let go of Raphael as the latter looked around curiously. "What is there to do here?"

As if on cue, something exploded.

The surface of the huge planet below them erupted in a series of quakes, the surface shaking and cracking as lava flowed to the surface. Raphael jerked out of the way, wings flapping in alarm, but Gabriel only laughed, diving _down_ and around the jets with a practiced efficiency and grace.

"Gabriel!" Raphael sounded panicked, so Gabriel dodged around one more that curled up over them and soared back up, spinning to face Raphael.

"Are you _insane?"_ Gabriel laughed in answer to their sibling's hissed question.

"It's _fun,_ Raphael! They're just volcanoes," Gabriel said in a voice that indicated that they were wondering what Raphael was so panicked about.

"And you do this _routinely?"_

Gabriel ducked neatly out of the way as another gush of whatever material the core of the planet was made out of spouted up towards them, brushing the tips of his wings. Gabriel shook them out impatiently. "Come on, Raphael, you'd like it! You're telling me you've never been in a situation with a little danger?"

Surprisingly enough, Raphael hesitated. Gabriel didn't give their sibling a chance to hesitate and pulled Raphael back down, through what was now a maze of fire as the chain of volcanoes erupted sporadically. They were all clustered close together, and blankets of embers and coals littered the ground, glowing and creating a blanket of fire.

Gabriel had let go of Raphael almost immediately, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to control their flight half as well. Ducking around a red-hot volcano gave Gabriel the opportunity to spin around midflight, to see their sibling weaving around the obstacles just as enthusiastically, even daring to dart through narrow openings in the streams which were created when the lava poured off a cliff or some similar rock formation.

"Changed your mind?" Gabriel shouted for Raphael.

"I think I've underestimated you, Gabriel!" Raphael ducked over to Gabriel's side around the next eruption. "This is-"

"Fun?"

"In not so many words."

"Well then." Gabriel streaked out of the planet's atmosphere abruptly, knowing Raphael would be interested enough to follow. "You'll think this is _great."_

* * *

_Quite some time later, not that anybody was counting..._

"Gabriel!"

"What?" Gabriel turned around. They hadn't done anything wrong - well, nothing that _Michael_ would count as wrong, and why else would Michael be shouting for them?

Michael looked irritated, but to Gabriel's relief it wasn't directed at them. "Several of the younger angels have taken it upon themselves to explore Parent's universe," They explained. "I require you-"

"To go get them?" Gabriel finished, smiling at the irritated look on Michael's face. "Why not get them yourself?"

"I have better things to do," Michael said evasively.

"You're asking me because I know Their universe better," Gabriel proclaimed, having watched Michael carefully.

Michel didn't deign to give Gabriel a reply, aside from their apparent attitude becoming one of fond exasperation. "Just go, Gabriel."

* * *

A better word to describe the angels was 'scattered'. Gabriel had to visit at least three different galaxies before Michael informed them via the telepathic connection that all angels shared that only one was still missing.

Castiel was on Earth when Gabriel finally located the little angel.

It had changed since the last time Gabriel had seen it. Rock and fire and an oppressive atmosphere had been replaced by fauna of all shapes and sizes. The plants came thickly, and Gabriel had to practically fight his way through them, careful not to damage anything, before they came across a little cove where a very young angel was standing. The vast expanse of water which now mostly covered the planet stretched out before them.

They weren't one Gabriel had ever spoken to before, so they waited before approaching the angel.

The young one - Castiel - hand obviously sensed Gabriel's approach, but they didn't move, continuing to stare at the water.

"Something interesting?" Gabriel wasn't in any hurry, and this angel looked like it had some sort of reason for coming here.

"There is something in the water," Castiel said quietly.

Something was in the water, and it was struggling to the shore, its head barely stirring the surface. The tiny gray thing - Gabriel wasn't entirely sure if it was a fish or not, because it _looked_ like one but the last time he checked, fish didn't have what appeared to be tiny leg stumps - was clawing at the mud at the edge of the sea, managing to drag itself only partway out.

Gabriel, in a rush, realized what was happening. Their Parent had told them and the other archangels about it - in the vaguest terms possible, it had seemed, but They were not to be questioned - but they hadn't realized it would be so _soon._

Carefully, they reached out and drew Castiel backwards as the fish hauled itself farther up the shore. "Castiel," They said quietly, "Don't step on that fish."

Castiel looked up at Gabriel. There was something strange in their expression, but Gabriel knew it would be the same feeling that had often gripped themselves - the feeling that they wanted to _know,_ instead of being content with what they were told.

"Why?" Something Gabriel used to ask more often, but Michael had mostly tamped that down in them.

"Big plans for that fish," Gabriel told Castiel, seeing no harm in it.

"What plans?"

"Only They know." Gabriel tightened their grip on Castiel slightly, meaning it to be comforting. "Come on - Michael might come down here themselves if they think I'm taking too long bringing you back."

"Have I done something wrong?" Now Castiel was worried, and Gabriel carefully drew the two of them outside of Earth's atmosphere in case Castiel lost their grip on themselves and accidentally torched the fish with their true form.

Gabriel had learned the hard way how damaging that could be to the lesser beings which occupied their Parent's universe.

"Of course not. You know Michael." Gabriel remembered that he was speaking to an angel who was a seraph, if that. "Well, you don't, I guess. They like to have things organized. They just asked me to make sure you weren't getting up to mischief."

Castiel had calmed. "Very well," They said. "Are we going back to Heaven?"

"Where else?"

It was a legitimate question, in Gabriel's view. Where else could there possibly be in this universe for Gabriel to be? They couldn't imagine living anywhere other than Heaven.


	2. Humanity's Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be getting into some of the more popularly-known stories here...I think, at least. You all know what the last chapter ended with, at any rate.
> 
> Honestly, I think Gabriel dicking around on Earth would be really fun to write.
> 
> And you guys have NO IDEA how much science I had to research for this story. Seriously. Who knew the evolutionary history of Earth would be so important to writing an accurate story?
> 
> At least I had that one unit in science three years ago.
> 
> Anyway, as a brief explanation, I'm going to put some of it here. Skip this bit if you're not into science and don't care.
> 
> That scene with Castiel and the fish [based on what I wrote without researching last chapter] probably took place about 363 million years ago, in the Paleozoic Era, specifically the Devonian period, more specifically the Late Devonian Epoch, even more specifically the Famennian Age.
> 
> If I had to research all of this, then you're going to get all of it.
> 
> Anyway, back then there was mostly plant life on Earth and a shit ton of stuff in the oceans. Land-based animal life was mostly insects. So not a whole lot going on quite yet, in terms of humans.
> 
> This chapter I'm going to skip a lot of that, since at this point no one's paying that much attention to Earth or even keeping track of time yet, so by the time we get back around to the humans a lot of time will have passed. A few million years at least - the earliest possible ancestors of humans didn't show up until about 6.5 million years ago [Cenozoic Era].
> 
> Science over. FOR NOW.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

_An indefinite amount of time later since the pattern of not keeping track of boring things like time has continued  
_

If you had asked Gabriel how important they thought the Earth would be just after they had retrieved Castiel, they might have just shrugged.

How important could one planet be?

Sure, there were some pretty elaborate [and very very secret] plans for that fish.

But that wasn't _Gabriel's_ business. There were plans like that for creatures on a bunch of planets. Earth wasn't the only one with life - or the only one that would have life.

And anyway, how big of an impact could that little green-and-blue planet have on creatures that had existed since before the universe it resided in?

How big of an impact could that little fishes' descendants have?

* * *

It started with one of the other plans.

"Kill them?" Gabriel stared at Michael incredulously [and we've _been_ over the whole angels-are-different-and-non-corporeal-so-lets-just-pretend-they're-humanoid thing so please just assume that disclaimer applies to everything unless I say otherwise. It will make things a lot easier. To read, especially]. "What do we need to do that for?"

"The creatures which inhabit this Earth cannot live peacefully with those that our Parent plans to create." Michael was fiery and impassive as ever, which probably should have been more of a paradoxical statement than it was.

"Says who?"

"Says our Parent."

Gabriel hesitated, but they were still reluctant - they liked the dinosaurs, though the beasts weren't called dinosaurs yet, and wouldn't be until humans invented the name - but the name they were called at this point would be completely unpronounceable to you or me. "And this new species that doesn't exist yet needs the room?"

"They have decreed that it should happen, Gabriel. Are you going to help or not?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't," Gabriel defended themselves, stung at the implication that they would ever go against their Parent. "I just think - an _entire species,_ Michael? All of them?" A tone of slight pleading entered their voice. "Even the flying ones?" They had liked those, even if their wings were so strange.

Michael huffed, with the air of one who thought that the other party should have grasped what they were trying to explain a long time ago. "Yes, Gabriel. _All_ of them, except the ones that will be able to live peacefully with this new species."

"What new species?"

"They haven't told me."

"Is this about that fish?"

"I don't know." Michael replied stiffly, which told Gabriel that that wasn't the real answer.

"Michael, please? You can't ask me to do this without at least explaining a little more."

Michael sighed, but they turned around to face Gabriel fully. "Yes. At least, I believe that it is the same species originally descended from that ancestor."

"So, what?" Gabriel looked up at their sibling. "We have to clear out room for them? How important are they?"

"I don't know. Parent keeps these things to Themselves." Even if Michael was trying their best not to show it, Gabriel could see that they were frustrated at not knowing. "Now are you going to help or not?"

"I will." It was their Parent's plan, after all, and if anyone had the right to declare what happened in this universe and what didn't, it was them. " I never said I wouldn't. How are we going to do this?"

* * *

Four archangels were positioned over the Earth, as it would come to be called, with a collection of lesser angels who had been chosen to help, and - though none of them knew it yet, least of all the archangels - eventually rise to become leaders of garrisons, when those were created.

They worked slowly, chatter making its way across the telepathic circuit at all times as they conferred over every little detail - where should this go to make this happen, are you sure we're doing this right, maybe we should ask someone to make sure this is going in the right place, et cetera.

It was slow going when their Parent had instructed them to make it look as natural as possible, but when you have lived as long as an angel, time is nothing, and they took as long as they needed.

Michael ultimately presided over everything, though they did hand down leadership over certain tasks to lesser angels - each archangel had command of a small unit, which were in charge of a certain area.

Gabriel was given dominion over what happened to the sea creatures.

It was almost sad - Gabriel did like the dinosaurs, after all, the huge creatures could be quite majestic - but orders were orders.

And as the years passed, the angels moving with the planet as it revolved around its sun and the system moved in sync with the arm of the galaxy it belonged to, the little Earth changed.

Michael ruled the change on the land, and it certainly was reflected in their method - volcanoes like the ones Gabriel used to dart and soar around, erupting and clogging the atmosphere with smoke and ash that fell in white carpets. Plants were choked, and the ones who ate the plants died from lack of sustenance, and the ones who ate them were carried down the same slow path towards death.

It was sad, and at the same time amazing, that they could change a planet's fate so surely. But then, Gabriel reminded themselves, they weren't changing anything - this was what their Parent had always known would happen, or else why would They ask Their angels to make sure that things went as they were supposed to?

The surface of the planet moved too, even the ground drowned under thousands of fathoms of water, and Gabriel saw as lava hissed up from the very bottom and was almost immediately cooled to rock, the poisonous steam bubbling to the surface and dragging up their Parent only knew how many creatures with it, not drowned - they did live underwater, after all - but asphyxiated by the steam from the metallic rocks made of what Gabriel had dredged up from the very core of the planet.

None of them bothered to count how many species died. There were too many, and they were all more absorbed with making sure they were killing off the right ones - and _all_ of the right ones - and ensuring the survival of those who were meant to survive.

And then, they were gone.

All the hulking species, the ones who had ruled the planet while smaller creatures survived alongside them - the fauna and flora and menagerie of plant life that had flourished there even when last Gabriel had visited - the Earth was nearly reduced to what it had been at first.

A hulk of rock in space, fire burning on its surface and a poison atmosphere.

But that, of course, would not do for the newcomers. The _new_ species. The ones whose soon-to-be-seen existence first required the extinction of these massive beasts.

And so the angels, Gabriel and their older siblings in the lead, cleaned up after themselves, encouraging the natural processes which in due time - but slowly, much to slowly for the path their Parent had laid out - would have fixed the mess.

The smoke was filtered from the atmosphere and different chemicals replaced it, ones the new species could breathe, or at least would probably be able to - it was habitable, at least. Those that had survived the previous chaos crept out of whatever holes they had hidden in and tried again.

Then the angels collectively stepped back and waited to see what would happen.

They had done their job, and now their Parent would do as They wished.

* * *

Gabriel paid another visit to Earth, a little while later.

What was there to say? As a rule, angels weren't curious, to say the least of _archangels,_ but the little seed from what approximated to Gabriel's childhood that told them to ask, that gave them the itch to _know_ whatever it was that they didn't - it hadn't been totally quashed by the strict rules that had developed in Heaven.

So, they were curious.

Even if the word was never spoken, they knew the feeling, and so they acted on it.

Animals had reclaimed the land again, but they were very different - warmer than the last creatures who had lived there, and as Gabriel watched in interest a herd of them went racing by. Slow by angel standards, but fairly fast for physical creatures. Most interestingly, they were covered not in scales or the thick shiny skin that the dinosaurs had sported, but in a softer and thinner skin that was covered by a layer of hair.

Hm. Gabriel thought they understood why the dinosaurs had been done away with - there was no way these creatures would have survived otherwise, but they also didn't think that these soft four-legged creatures were The Species that was always vaguely referenced by their older siblings.

Gabriel knew they would have known if they were in the presence of such a creature.

There were also new plants - Gabriel came across a large flat area of land, covered in nothing but short plants that waved in the wind and looked like taller, thinner versions of the small leaves that grew on the stems of the huge flowers that used to bloom along coastlines and get tangled up in other trees.

There were plants like those, too, but not nearly as big and more muted, somehow - these forests were not nearly as hot, and some were perpetually covered in snow, and Gabriel marveled that their Parent could invent so many varieties of the same thing.

There were also some creatures that they recognized. Birds flocked in the forests, hiding in the trees and disguised from predators by thick green branches and nests of carefully woven twigs. Their songs echoed among the rustlings of the other creatures, and Gabriel stood and watched and thought that they understood why their Parent had bothered to create anything.

It was beautiful.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Which was weird, because things didn't go wrong - they went wrong on Earth, on the other planets, but those were always planned, and things going wrong in _Heaven_ could not possibly have been planned.

Because, of course, what could possibly go wrong in a plane full of perfect beings?

Regardless of popular opinion, however, something had indeed gone wrong, and it infuriated Gabriel that they didn't know what it was.

Michael was tenser than usual, flaring up more quickly, and Samael was still as a lake frozen over, except this lake gave you the impression that there was a predator lurking in its depths, waiting for you to make a misstep and come crashing through the ice.

Their Parent must have told Michael and Samael _something_ to make them act like this, but Raphael didn't know either and had refused to help Gabriel find out.

"There's nothing wrong with them, Gabriel, they're just..." Raphael hesitated, searching for the right word. "Whatever it is, they will return to normal."

" _When?"_ Gabriel was tired of tiptoeing around their siblings for fear of setting one off.

"I don't know. Eventually."

"I think Parent told them something."

"They may have. What of it?"

"They told them something bad," Gabriel guessed with the confidence of one who sees no other explanation, "And it upset them."

"Why would it upset them?" Raphael was genuinely puzzled. "Gabriel, even if out Parent did tell them something, why would it be something bad?"

Gabriel hesitated. They knew their Parent's plans were always just, and they _didn't_ know why Michael and Samael would be upset by anything They planned, but...

Raphael reached out a hand and pushed Gabriel gently to a sitting position. "Stay here for a while. Stop fluttering through our Parent's universe for a change. Then things will calm down."

Gabriel didn't think that would work, but they were willing to give it a try. Raphael was older, after all, and knew Michael and Samael better than Gabriel did.

* * *

"Parent?"

"Yes, Gabriel?"

They were in the dish room again, observing the universe, and Gabriel had joined Them, wondering why the Earth was so much closer to the edge than usual but then noticing that the entire universe had been pulled so that God could easily fiddle with it.

And They were, and Gabriel could see small flashes on the Earth as They put changes in motion that would result in certain animals.

"Can _I_ make something?"

Their Parent wasn't surprised - They knew everything that would happen, Gabriel had been told - but They put down Their work and turned to face Gabriel. "Make a creature for the Earth?"

"Yes." Gabriel shifted so that they were perched, ready to stand and leave at a moment's notice.

To their surprise, God smiled.

"Sit down, my child." They laughed. "Create something yourself...why not?"

"Really?"

"You asked, why sound so surprised?"

 _I didn't think you'd really say yes._ Gabriel didn't say it, but they got the feeling their Parent knew anyway. Gabriel stood properly, peering over the tiny lip of the dish and into the near infinite universe it contained. "What can I make?"

"That is up to you." God returned to whatever They were doing with Earth, but used one hand to scoot Gabriel closer. "It is your choice, Gabriel, and you can only wait and see what you will create. Let yourself simply _do_ something."

Gabriel did.

They let their hands mimic God's movements and watched their Parent intensely, every movement recorded and purposeful, and an animal took shape.

Sort of.

God didn't look like They were sure what it was supposed to be. Gabriel wasn't really sure either, but they liked it.

"Well, then." God said, smiling. "Why don't we just put this...over here."

Gabriel thought that whatever ended up living on that particular, kind of isolated bit of land had better appreciate what they made.

* * *

Time passed, again.

And something else appeared on the Earth, and their siblings watched with such attention as it did that Gabriel was starting to think that this might be It.

Their Parent certainly was up to something, and if the sense that the hypothetical dam was about to break in Heaven didn't push that through Gabriel's head, the summons all four archangels received did.

"Parent?" They were all standing respectfully, but inside Gabriel felt like their Grace was tangled up into a mess of nerves.

"My children." God was happy about something, incredibly happy, and the feeling spread through Gabriel like a crackle of energy, and they could hear the chatter of younger angels die out.

Everyone was listening, and They were speaking to everyone.

"This is among My best creations," God said, and with a sweeping movement of Their hand Gabriel saw what They were talking about, and their breath vanished [ if they had possessed lungs or anything like that and _you know what I mean]._

This was the first time they had seen something like this on the little planet. And it was amazing.

They had _two legs,_ not four, but there were still four appendages - they looked a bit like the monkeys Gabriel had noticed, except with far less hair and vastly different features.

"They will play an important part," God told them, and Gabriel knew that their siblings were seeing the same thing they had been shown. "And they will need guidance, in dark times, and that is your duty - to watch over them, to guide them and protect them, but do not force them along a path."

"Parent?" Michael looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"Let them do as they will, Michael," God said gently. "You will know what to do. Watch them, guide them - and love them as you do Me."

That took even more of Gabriel's breath away.

They weren't alone in that - Samael was wide-eyed, staring between their Parent and the picture of the creatures - the humans, Gabriel suddenly knew, though they had never heard the word before.

"As-" Raphael began and then cut themselves off.

"As you love Me," Their Parent finished softly. "They are My creations, so why should you not?"

Why hadn't They asked this about the dinosaurs? About the birds, the plants, about anything else that had inhabited the Earth? Why the humans?

Gabriel knew _someone_ else had to be thinking it, but none of them - not even Gabriel - voiced the idea. That wold be going against their Parent.

God was looking at them expectantly, and though the smile on Their face had dimmed, They did not look surprised - though of course, They knew what the archangel's reactions would be.

"Well?"

Raphael recovered first. "I...of course," They said, bowing their head.

Gabriel glanced at their sibling, and then back at their Parent. "Of course I can," Gabriel said, giving Them a half-grin that fell as soon as They turned around, becoming a thoughtful frown directed at the picture of the two humans provided.

"Michael?"

Michael inclined their head as well. "I will do what you ask, Parent." Ever the obedient child, their Parent's leader among the angels.

"Samael?" They all watched as their Parent turned to the second oldest of the archangels.

Samael was watching the illusion of the humans, like Gabriel, but their expression was different - like Gabriel had seen earlier, there was something dangerous lurking just under the surface.

"Samael?" Michael repeated, a sterner tone entering their voice.

Slowly, Samael looked up at their Parent and nodded.

They said nothing.

* * *

Humanity, Gabriel decided, didn't make any sense.

They were _like_ animals, but the way they did things was distinctly different. There were hierarchies set up, and they decided who was better than who in their isolated little groups, but it wasn't like any herd Gabriel had ever seen.

Their Parent had given them a word for it - a tribe.

The humans also had words for everything - specific sounds that meant certain things, and it was so like Enochian that when Gabriel first realized what they were doing they stopped in surprise.

"What?" Anael was with them when that happened - a young angel, but not that much younger than Gabriel themselves, and with the same little seed that urged them to _know._

"They're speaking," Gabriel said, astonished.

"Every creature has a method of making sounds."

"No, Anael - it's like _Enochian._ They're speaking like _we_ do, except using their bodies."

Startled, Anael looked down to observe the humans again and did not speak for several moments. Then, they spoke quietly in Enochian - and, well, every species has its swear words, don't they?

"They are," Anael said, equally astonished. "Gabriel...how?"

Only one solution presents itself to Gabriel. "They must have planned this," They said, still in the throes of astonishment. "Why else would these humans be so important?"

Anael looks up at them, trusting and _curious,_ and the sudden impact of the word to _describe_ what that feeling is hits Gabriel like the one time they were caught at the edge of a supernova - with all the force and subtlety of Michael's rage.

"Do you really think these humans are intended to be like us?"

"How can they be?" Gabriel turns to watch them again, eyes narrowed. "They don't look anything like us. They don't act like us either - does that look organized to you?"

"I see some organization." Gabriel is startled again, and turns to Anael, the need for an explanation not voiced but apparent all the same.

Anael raises a hand - or at least, what a hand would be on an angel - to point. "See that one? The...woman?" Their voice is hesitant, and Gabriel remembers.

"Yes," They mutter to themselves, "There are different kinds...I think that one's a woman."

Anael huffs. "Humans are complicated. But look at them - they are in charge of food, and that one is in charge of the little ones." In the case of humans, little is not merely a description of age but of size as well.

"So?"

"So, look at those." The humans Anael points out next have hair on their faces and not just their heads. They carry tall sticks, topped with stone sharpened to a point like the angel blades that all angels carry with them, but duller and less refined in every sense. "They are the ones who bring the animals back - then they wait for the other ones to put it in that fire before they consume it. It must be a human thing."

"They have to eat," Gabriel recalled from what they had observed of the animals that had preceded the humans.

Anael nodded. "They all have specific things to do. And those - the ones that do nothing?"

"I see."

"They are the most important, because the other humans have decided that they are too special to have to do any work."

Gabriel frowned. "But everyone has to do something."

"The humans must not agree." Anael tilted their head, careful gaze still trained on the humans. "But it's harder for them - look at them." They pointed one more time, at a smaller group within the main one made up of humans who had apparently decided to forgo whatever coverings their tribe-mates had adopted to cover themselves. "Look, they are tired."

"So?" Gabriel asked again.

"So, the ones who are important cannot be tired or hungry. They are brought what they need, and other people work for it."

Gabriel regards the few humans Anael is attempting to explain, the ones who are wearing the clothes that have holes bored into them to attach shells and teeth from the animals the humans kill for their food. Compared to the half-naked ones, they look to have a much easier time of things - not that that means much, since the humans have to work for everything like everything else that lives.

"How do you know this?" Gabriel asks, wondering why Anael seems to understand the humans better than they do.

Anael shrugs. "I watch. I see what they do. They are...fascinating."

The fleeting thought crosses Gabriel's mind that they wished Samael agreed with their little sibling. Samael had been more irritable recently, and the dark mood that came over them when their Parent first showed them the humans had not left in all the time that had passed since then.

"Gabriel?" Anael's questioning voice reminds Gabriel that they have company, and those are thoughts best left to when they are alone.

"Yes?"

"What are the cherubium doing?" Anael asks, and Gabriel immediately wishes that they had not done so, or at least not asked about _that_. "Something important is going on, I know it."

Gabriel shrugs, the same halfhearted movement Anael had made only moments ago. "I could not say."

Anael catches onto their meaning. "You're not supposed to say?"

"Our Parent has told only Michael."

Their eyes widen. "You listened in?"

"No!" Gabriel protests. "They told me. But I am not supposed to _say._ It's meant to be revealed later." Of course Gabriel knew what their Parent had planned, what Michael and Samael had been told, what Raphael also knew was to happen, but the brooding look that had passed over Samael's face at the news had made them uneasy, and in any case they really weren't supposed to tell.

But Gabriel could not help but think that none of the other creatures had ever been manipulated like this, and it felt a little wrong to do so.

The thought of calling their Parent _wrong_ made Gabriel ball the thought up and shove it into the back of their mind where none of their siblings would ever find it, but there it lingered and festered nonetheless.

"Everything is secret," Anael mutters. "Why can't everything be known to all of us? I'm sure it would make things much simpler."

It is Gabriel's turn for wide eyes and Anael's head jerks up as they realize what they have said.

"I didn't mean-" The words come spilling out of their mouth. "Our Parent - of course, They are doing what is right, I just-"

"I know," Gabriel hurries to reassure them. "Just-" They catch Anael's eye and keep them still with a sharp gaze. "Do not say that in front of Michael."

Anael shakes their head furiously. "You won't-"

"I won't tell them. But do not say it again."

"Of course not." Even so, Anael still doesn't sound satisfied. "It will all be revealed in due time, and I will find out then."

But like Gabriel, Anael still wanted to _know._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. That was some...pretty intense accidental foreshadowing.  
> Comment, please! I'd love to know what you think of this chapter!


	3. Eden and Lucifer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually having a lot more fun than I thought I would with this story.
> 
> Okay, moving into the development of human society! Which, yes, would involve Adam and Eve. If anyone is confused about the method I'm going to take in regards to that particular plot development, I advise you to check out 'and it's a long way up when you hit the ground' on ff.net. Not sure if it's crossposted here (or if it's been updated in the last year ish). Not only is it an amazing story, but I think it takes a pretty interesting view on how certain Biblical events went down.
> 
> The last scene of the last chapter took place roughly 10,000 years ago, when humans still lived in little hunter-gatherer societies and mainly survived. Fast-forward 4,000 years or so, and the first non-nomadic cities are rising in Mesopotamia - how they got up there from Africa, where most people agree life started out, I'm not entirely sure.
> 
> Adam and Eve, however, are a different case. There are specific ancestors, nicknamed Adam and Eve, that share traits common to all modern humans - this 'Adam' passes down the same Y chromosome and 'Eve' has the same mitochondrial traits as modern women. But science now is still trying to figure out if they actually lived within a couple 100,000 years of each other or not - some evidence points to them being separated by quite a lot of time. In any case, I personally think that there had to have been some other humans around at the same time as Adam and Eve, or else our species would have never taken off like it did due to a really shitty and non-diverse gene pool to chose from.
> 
> Their names have also been Anglicized by various translations, to say the least of the disaster of the King James Bible - look up the story, this author's note is really long already - and so there original names were probably something like [for Adam] אָדָם and [for Eve] חַוָּה . So, not very accurate. Adam is at least pronounced something like Adam, but Eve's name was probably something along the lines of Chavah or Havva. Same goes for Lillith - her name wasn't that different either, but it's still been anglicized.

The Garden was amazing, to describe it in the basic, most layman's terms possible.

In the middle of a continent that Gabriel knew would one day be more desert and jungle, a place this lush was rare. It was in part credit to the lake that lay almost directly to the north, which had no name yet, and partly the credit of the younger angels who had been oh-so-eager to bring as many plants as they could for their Parent's chosen two.

God's chosen two humans.

The cherubium had been busy, and only the archangels had known [until now, at least, when all their plans had come to fruition] - directing the best of the humans together so that they ended up with children that were even better than their parents in every way, and the result was the two humans who spent their days in the Garden, the best of any of those that inhabited or would ever inhabit the Earth.

Gabriel had been told not to think about Lillit, Adam's first wife - these humans, with their strange relationships and titles and requirements - and they tried not to. Really.

But Lillit had done something unique - she [and gender was new, too, and Gabriel often wondered why humans classed each other based on what they had between their legs] had _rebelled._ She hadn't followed orders. She had done what she wanted to do - and since humans also seemed to place more importance on those they called men, it was doubly astonishing to Adam.

So Gabriel's Parent cast Lillit out, and in her place came Havva.

They were strange, these Hebrews, who had given life to Adam and Havva, and named them according to their customs, but God had told them to love the humans, and Gabriel tried.

They liked to think that they succeeded.

Adam and Havva knew nothing outside the garden - they wanted for nothing, ate whenever they liked, and spent their time among the plants and animals that lived peacefully alongside them.

Gabriel knew it wouldn't last - _couldn't_ last. Humans were not meant to be toyed with like this - they only wondered how long it would take before it all came crashing down.

* * *

While Havva and Adam may have been ignorant of the outside world, the angels were not, least of all Gabriel.

God's Messenger - a special position, meaning it was Gabriel's duty to carry whatever messages their Parent wished to be taken to the humans.

They had not been given one yet, but it was only a matter of time. The humans had changed in such a short amount of time - probably because they lived equally short lives [at least those outside the Garden did], but it was still astonishing to Gabriel that they could get so much _done_ in so little time - after all, they were only humans.

Groups of them had moved north, into a smaller and less arid region, and they stopped moving there, which was enough to attract Gabriel's attention. The beings that lived on Earth always moved around, following whatever animals they hunted for food, but these humans were _settling._

"What are they doing?" It was Raphael who joined Gabriel this time, as they both watched.

"I don't know." Gabriel studied what was taking shape in front of them. "Building shelter?"

"It's large, for a human-made place. What about those huts?"

"Those are where the ones who build it live."

Raphael's head tilted, and their eyes narrowed. "What are they doing outside of this place?"

"They're growing plants." Gabriel realized.

"They're what?"

"They're making things grow in certain places."

"That's ridiculous." Raphael made as if to move towards the land which had been cleared, but Gabriel grabbed their sibling to stop them.

"Raphael, no. You know They said not to interfere."

"Interfere? They are changing the land our Parent created as if they own it!" Raphael looked at Gabriel like the thought the latter was crazy.

"I know, but..." Gabriel searched for a reason. "Isn't everything supposed to have a purpose? Maybe They intended this to happen."

Raphael's expression changed only slightly, and they took a step back towards Gabriel, casting a lingering - and confused - glance back towards the humans, who were swarming like ants over the half-finished structure. "Why would They make something just so another one of Their creations could destroy it?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. It's Their plan."

"Yes." Raphael looked reluctant. "And it is just."

* * *

The land was called Naharaim, Gabriel later learned, by the people who lived there, but the humans soon became the last thing on their mind.

"What for?" The angel blade rested in their hand, silver glinting in the light of Heaven, but Gabriel's attention was on Michael.

"You need to learn," Michael said decisively. "The others, too. We've been far to lax."

"Lax? Michael, what do we need to go organizing for?"

Something that was almost a frown crept across Michael's face.

"Are you saying you'd rather be outdone by those humans?"

"Are - Michael, what-" Gabriel stared. "This is because of them?"

" _This_ is non-negotiable." Michael folded Gabriel's fingers over the hilt of their blade. "And you will help."

"Michael-"

"Form the garrisons."

"The _what?"_ The meaning of the word was edging its way into Gabriel's head even as they spoke, but they remained incredulous. "Michael-"

"I'm putting you in charge of one fourth." Michael's eyes were set and determined, and they almost glared at Gabriel. "You can decide who will lead the individual garrisons."

Gabriel only stared helplessly at their sibling. "Yes."

"Good. Do not disappoint, Gabriel."

* * *

The lesser angels knew why they had been summoned.

Michael's decision had wasted no time in winding its way through the telepathic channels - Heaven was building an army, and everyone was participating, down to the youngest seraph.

"You know why you're here." It was easier to say the words, and a few of the angels nodded. Anael watched Gabriel with dark eyes.

"You know what Michael's doing." Gabriel took a deep breath. "From now on, all of you are under my command."

None of them reacted. Gabriel hadn't expected any differently.

"You will all be commanders of your own individual garrisons." They must know what the word meant by now - if not, they would find out soon enough. "Each of you will also be in charge of designating those under your command with specific tasks. You are in charge of, and responsible for, every angel under you."

Every angel under you. Assigning a humanlike hierarchy, and no doubt those who were more powerful would immediately be given command positions.

"Each garrison is to be divided into twelve units. Each of you has one-twelfth of those under my command, not counting you twelve." Twelve had been what Michael decided on, after all, and what better way to divide so many angels than to count them into parts? "You may decide who leads each of those units. If you are not sure, figure it out. I am not here to guide you." The words had to be dragged out - because since when had Gabriel not been here to guide? But they were a Messenger now, not a leader. "I am here to lead you."

Gabriel stopped, and looked over the twelve angels in front of them to make sure they understood.

"Well?"

"Understood!" They all said it as one. God help all of Their children, Gabriel thought to themselves, because they suddenly envied human children the time as babes and toddlers that these angels would never get.

"Dismissed."

* * *

God was doing something new.

Everyone _knew_ what They were doing, but none were allowed to observe. They sat in the dish room, as Gabriel had begun to refer to it, past the doors that guarded the entrance from Heaven into the Universe.

Metatron, of all angels, sat with Them.

Gabriel didn't know why that angel out of all of them had been chosen, but none dared to protest. Metatron had been chosen, for whatever reason, to write down Their word.

"Do you know what They are telling Metatron?" Gabriel asked Raphael, and received a glare in reply.

"You shouldn't wonder like that, Gabriel." Raphael's tone was sharp. "They are passing down Their word, for the protection of humans. Nothing else. It is not your duty to pry and demand that those secrets be shared with you as well."

"I know," Gabriel grumbled, shrinking back from their sibling.

When Anael asked them the same question a few years later [by human measurement] they gave the younger angel the same answer.

Whatever the Scribe was writing down, it wasn't for Gabriel to know, and they shouldn't have asked.

But Gabriel wonders who _is_ supposed to know, because humans can't read Enochian.

* * *

It all came crashing down.

It was always going to, and it was with a sick sort of feeling that Gabriel realized that, that this was always going to happen, that their Parent must have known this whole time.

And done nothing.

Michael crashed into them with a wall of rage and fire licking their wings, and for the first time Gabriel thought they are truly afraid of something.

"Where is Samael?"

"What?"

Michael lost their patience immediately and Gabriel found their sibling's hand pushing them against a wall and pinning them there, anger burning at everyone but especially Samael.

"Where are they?" Michael demanded again.

"I don't know! Michael, what-?" Gabriel was almost afraid to ask, because any answer Michael might give might be accompanied by a flashing angel blade and a fiery surge of Grace.

Michael _growled,_ and let go of Gabriel so abruptly that the latter had no time to steady themselves and collapsed to the ground.

"What did Samael do?" Because Gabriel knew that the dangerousness they saw in Samael, the predator lurking under the surface, had finally broken through the ice.

Michael was stiff and flaming with rage and all Gabriel got in answer was a disjointed bundle of pictures, but one thing stood out: something had happened to Eden.

"No." That's all there was to say.

Gabriel flew as fast as they could, and they were sure that there must be a shooting star in Earth's atmosphere as they blast through it and what will the humans think but there's no time, they had to make sure, they had to _see-_

Eden was empty.

Adam and Havva were nowhere to be seen, and even the animals seemed to have fled - it was nighttime, and the plants which were welcoming in daylight became ominous shadows at night. Gabriel hurried through the garden, remembering a flash of what Michael had shown them and hoping beyond belief that they were wrong-

But they were right.

The tree stood at one end of the garden and it had been _touched._ One brush of a human's hand, one missing fruit, and the tree was no longer as bright as it once was, soiled and ruffled, leaves shifting in the wind and Gabriel stopped dead, staring and dreading what was to come.

"Gabriel?"

The presence was familiar, and as Gabriel turned they saw a familiar sibling come into view.

"Joshua," They greeted their sibling tiredly, the gardener and watchful guardian of the garden - or so it was meant to be.

Joshua's eyes were wide. "Something must be done," They said fretfully. "Adam and Havva - they have been _banished,_ Gabriel. I could not stop them."

Gabriel, with a feeling that they do not have the words to describe, notices that there is a wound on Joshua's arm leaking bright Grace. "Who?" They knew the answer before Joshua replied.

"Samael. Someone let them in - Gabriel, what they did-"

"I know." Gabriel had always known, that Samael would be at the root of it when it all came down.

There was no other reason Michael would have been looking for them, but why, why do this? The humans were to be treasured, they were to be helped, guided, shown the right way to go, so why would Samael do this, why would they reduce Havva and Adam to the level of the other humans?

They were supposed to be special, but they were only human in the end, and suddenly Gabriel saw their sibling's point.

The garden no longer seemed so beautiful, so treasured, and there was a scent on the wind that Gabriel could not make out but burned against their true form in a way they did not recognize or like.

"Gabriel?" They did not answer Joshua, but instead turned away.

The wind had an angry burn, deeper than Michael, and darker, and Gabriel shifted away from the breeze in an attempt to avoid it.

They had to find Samael.

They had to, before Michael did, or else everything would be ruined.

Gabriel took off again, flying desperately fast and darting through different planes, in and out of Heaven after only quick glimpses faster than even most angels could process, because if they didn't find Samael first, Gabriel didn't want to think about what might happen-

And then they were yanked to a stop, so hard that it almost choked Gabriel, and they were not alone.

"Gabriel." The voice was almost silent, calmer than it had any right to be. "I see you've run into Michael."

"Samael?" The name was almost a question as Gabriel turned to face their sibling, and they were as beautiful as ever, triumph etched on their face.

"Why?" Gabriel asked when Samael made no move to speak again. "Eden is - this is-"

"I never understood," Samael said quietly, "How these creatures, these humans, were supposed to be easier to love than our Parent."

There was a quiet fury in their voice.

"So you gave Havva the Knowledge?" Gabriel asked. "Samael-"

Their sibling's face twisted into a visual representation of the fury simmering below the surface, but there was no time to speak before Michael arrived.

Gabriel crashed to the ground beneath the weight of their sibling's fury and _oh,_ it may have been focused on Samael, but that didn't mean Gabriel wasn't scrambling away, trying to find a safe spot because Michael was _terrifying._

"Samael." If Samael was angry then Michael was fury itself personified, wings flared and _burning._

"No," Samael growled back. "I will have no name that deals with _Them._ I am my _own_ fury, Michael," They seethe, and Gabriel realized with horror what Samael was doing.

They were _throwing away their name._

Michael's face was stone-solid still, and they said nothing.

"I am _Lucifer,"_ Samael hissed, "And I say that these humans are _nothing._ They are _weak,_ they _sin,_ and they don't even have the decency to worship the right God."

Gabriel had hoped that Samael - no, they thought brokenly, _Lucifer -_ had not noticed the made-up gods of the Naharaimians, but apparently that was too much to ask of their Parent.

"Our Parent commanded us to love them," Michael snapped back. "You would disobey?"

"I would disobey _for_ Them." Lucifer retorted. "You cannot honestly tell me that these - _creatures_ are more worthy of our love than Them-"

"I know what I was told." Michael took a step forward, a burning brand of silver in their hand. Lucifer noticed it too, and Gabriel saw their wings expand defensively.

They knew that they should leave, but Gabriel could not bring themselves to.

Michael's eyes flickered to Gabriel. "Come here."

Gabriel could not force themselves get up.

Impatiently, Michael gestured, and Gabriel felt a pull of Grace on their own before they were standing near Michael, almost in between the two siblings.

Raphael landed on Michael's other side, looking resolute, but Gabriel could see terror at having to face _Lucifer_ in the depths of their Grace.

"Michael," Gabriel mustered the courage to speak, and both Michael and Lucifer look at them. "Please, don't..."

"Don't?" Raphael's eyes were wide and they pulled Gabriel back, behind Michael and away from Lucifer, and Gabriel couldn't help but think that Lucifer looked surprised that they had tried to protest.

"Be silent, Gabriel. This is not your fight." This time it was Michael who spoke.

"Fight?" Lucifer spread their arms. "What fight? Because I was right, after all this time? Because I proved you wrong about these...humans?"

They said the last word so disdainfully that it took Gabriel aback, and they wondered how they missed Lucifer's hatred of this new race.

"Because our Parent ordered me to do this."

And with that, everything was cracked and broken beyond repair.

Lucifer's smile slipped, and they immediately replaced it with a scowl, and coursing through angel radio was the news Gabriel did not want to hear, because this should not be happening, why would their Parent order _that?_

"If that's the case," Lucifer said, "Then I'd like to see you try."

Other angels appeared behind them - ones who looked just as resolute as Raphael, but more emotional, scowls and half-mad grins and wings spread wide in intimidation moves.

Michael watched stoically as they gather behind Lucifer, a ragtag group, and then suddenly Gabriel is surrounded by angels and they are moving towards each other and _Parent, no, please, this can't be happening._

But it was, so Gabriel swallowed and made themselves fight to.

It was a short fight, but the two archangels in the center whaling at each other with all they have make it seem longer.

The group of angels who have taken Lucifer's side against the humans - Azazel, Azael, Sachiel, two who made it abundantly clear that they had chosen new names as well [Behemoth and Beezelbub], and that was only a few - were hopelessly, hilariously outnumbered by the remained of the host, who were furious that their siblings had chosen the traitor's side.

Traitor.

That was what Lucifer was now.

Gabriel flipped Azazel and pinned them down, silver blade at their neck, and a momentary flash of fear passed over their sibling's face before a scowl replaced it.

The rest were taken care of in a similar manner, and a thousand days might have passed, but when all paused again and attention rested on the two in the center, it was night again.

It might have been the same night, for all Gabriel had been paying attention.

Michael had pinned Lucifer to the ground, both with wild Graces dripping through wounds and leaving scorch marks on the ground before slowly, too slowly, rejoining the whole.

Lucifer was grinning up at them, a sharp grin that said the loser didn't think they had lost quite yet. "What now?" Lucifer sneered. "Lock me up and forget about me?"

Michael was as impassive as ever, but their blade was still bleeding fire as they stabbed it into the ground next to Lucifer's head. "You like what you did to Lillit so much," They said, "You can join her."

Lucifer's smile vanished.

"No!" they shouted, struggling under Michael, clawing at the ground fruitlessly. "You cannot! You would not dare!"

"I would," Michael said, "If our Parent ordered it."

Lucifer froze for the barest of seconds, and Gabriel saw their older sibling for half a moment.

"Bvtmon," Michael began, and Lucifer's struggles took on a desperate edge. "Tabages," The second word left Michael's lips and the ground around their sword began to glow.

"Babalon."

With a roar the ground under Lucifer tore itself away, sinking and falling into depths Gabriel could not hope to fathom. A wind tore itself out of the pit, sucking at Lucifer, and as Gabriel and the others watched in horror Lucifer's attempt at escape was thwarted by Michael's vicious slash at their wings.

Lucifer fell.

There was no comet, no bright streak in the sky to mark the passage, just another yell added to the roar of the wind and then the hole sealed itself up, so that if you had not been there you would not know that it had so much as existed.

Michael's face had not changed a bit throughout the entire exchange. "Gabriel," they said finally, "Find me Gadreel."

"What about them?" It was Raphael who spoke the question, gesturing with a jerk of their head to the angels who were pinned under their brethren.

"I will deal with them. Raphael, stay here. Gabriel-"

Gabriel knew better than to argue with their sibling right now, even if it meant biting back the question of what Gadreel had done.

* * *

Gadreel was halfway across the nearest galaxy before Gabriel caught up with them, on wings swifter than anyone else in the Host.

They tumbled over one another until Gabriel managed to pin down a struggling, wide-eyed Gadreel.

"What did you do?" Gabriel demanded.

Gadreel laughed, sardonic and mocking and at the same time fearful. "What did I do?" They asked. "I freed them."

With a jolt, Gabriel realized that they were talking about Adam and Havva. "Gadreel," They whispered. "What did you do?"

"I let them in." Gadreel sagged under Gabriel, as if fully realizing the ramifications of what they'd done. "I let Lucifer in the Garden."

Heart sinking, Gabriel knew that nothing good was in store if they brought Gadreel back to Michael.

But what else could they do?

* * *

Prison, at least, was a better fate than what had been given to Lucifer and their allies.

Gabriel hadn't fully understood the ramifications of that, until they were told exactly what had happened to Lillit and where Lucifer was.

"What?"

"I know you heard, Gabriel."

Gabriel was standing just outside the doors to their Parent's universe, hand resting over their face. "Tell me again."

"Do not order me, Gabriel." Raphael was touchier, ever since Lucifer fell.

"Raphael..." Gabriel let a tone of slight pleading enter their voice, but didn't turn around.

They could hear Raphael sigh. "Lucifer warped Lillit's soul," They explained again. "They are...beyond human."

"What are they?"

"There is no word-" Raphael broke off with another sigh. "Lucifer called them a demon."

Demon. The word, for some reason, sent a chill through Gabriel, and their wings rustled uncomfortably.

"And Michael sent Lucifer to wherever they are."

"It's not that simple."

"Well, how complicated can it be?"

"There is...another region." Raphael described it awkwardly. "Not Heaven by any stretch, but...similar. In the sense that it is not in that universe."

"Who made it?"

"Lucifer did."

Gabriel stopped. Archangels had vast power, yes, but...they had never considered that it could be used for _that._ "And that's where Lucifer is?"

"Them, and the others who allied with them." Raphael hesitated. "Lucifer is...a special case."

"You just said they're in this..." Gabriel waved their hand. "Other universe."

"Yes, but they are locked in there." Gabriel's astonishment must have been obvious, because Raphael barely paused before continuing. "There is a Cage, at the very bottom of that realm, which Michael locked them into. It can only be opened one way."

"It can be opened?" Why?

"Parent instructed that it should be so."

"Lucifer's meant to get out?"

Raphael shrugged. "At some point...I suppose to. But there are six hundred and sixty six possible seals that can unlock it, and sixty six must be broken in a very specific order before Lucifer can get out, so I doubt it will happen anytime soon."

"But it will happen?"

"That has also been decreed." Raphael inclined their head slightly, to where their Parent sat just inside the doors which were nearly closed, still imparting Their secrets to Metatron. "As They have said, so it shall be."

Gabriel watched the door, and wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I picture Gabriel and Raphael being kind of bros, since they're closest in age.
> 
> Comments are really appreciated, especially since this story doesn't have any yet, please leave some!


	4. Sinners and Plagues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are lucky I literally have nothing better to do than write right now, because this is the longest chapter of anything I've ever written.
> 
> And so we are now post-Fall. What now?
> 
> Well, the humans, for one.
> 
> I will admit that I'm probably the last person to know much about Biblical events, but that doesn't matter much since I figure the last thing Gabriel would be doing would involve any angels or anything remotely related to Heaven - at least, after he left.
> 
> Gabriel probably didn't leave Heaven until sometime around 700 AD, by my reasoning, so we won't get anywhere near there for a few chapters, at least.
> 
> This chapter mostly focuses on some events in Heaven as a response to events on Earth, which will be focused around the Bible and the Qur'an [what I know or can find out via Google, mostly]. See the below disclaimer on Biblical events, and for those of you who are reading this and are religious, I apologize in advance for ruining it.
> 
> A note on Sodom and Gomorrah: most scientists believe they never really existed [or if they did there's no specific time frame for when they did] so I'm going to kind of BS my way through that bit and try to make it realistic.
> 
> As for what will be in this chapter: a shit ton of Biblical stuff. I really am trying to make this as accurate as I possibly can, but keep in mind with religion there's always things that have been changed over time and it's not really possible to make everything right because some stuff, no one knows what happened.
> 
> And as another note, Iset and Wesir are the proposed original pronunciations of Isis and Osiris, before the Greeks got ahold of the names. Same goes for Mosheh [Moses].

* * *

The gods of the humans were a mystery to Gabriel.

If they were going to worship divine beings, surely they would manage to realize that there was only one - but they worshipped _hundreds_ of gods, assigning the beings they believed to exist roles that corresponded with daily life for the people - everything from controlling the skies to watching over the process of making bread.

Absu and Adad, Ninurta and Ashur, Enlil and Ninlil. So many gods, and yet no one made mention of the one God, who actually existed.

Gabriel knew some of their siblings despised the humans for this, but they couldn't bring themselves to do the same. How were the humans supposed to know?

Still, it could be a little grating.

Their civilization passed under the watchful eyes of the angels, changing at a speed that was both incredibly slow and yet - compared to the angels - astonishingly rapid. Eridu, the first real city, had vanished under the movement of time and been replaced with others - the first of which the people called Sumer.

It was them that learned to write as well, and it was during their rule that the angels learned of vessels.

"Possess?" Gabriel asked, tilting their head as Raphael stood in front of them.

"Yes," The elder archangel replied. "Lucifer's creation, Lillit - they are among the humans as well, possessing them - they have somehow gained that skill."

"Are we to use it as well?"

"No. Michael says we are not to interfere."

"Then what are vessels?"

"Vessels are humans meant to host us - or at least, capable of doing so." Raphael was not the best at explaining, but that was the advantage of a telepathic connection - it could get across what mere Enochian couldn't, and Gabriel understood what their sibling really meant.

"I see. So what are vessels for?"

"In your case? So you may deliver your messages safely to the humans."

Gabriel perked up. "Have They-"

"No, Gabriel." Raphael shook their head. "They have no message for you yet, but be patient. The time will come, and you will do your duty."

* * *

The first time Gabriel took a vessel was not to deliver a message.

It was for another mission.

Their Parent had finished the work of the tablets, and Gabriel had been thrilled and at the same time nervous when They approached them.

Apparently, as the messenger, it was also Gabriel's job to hide these tablets so that they would be recovered when the time was right for humanity to find them. Anywhere on Earth would do - just nowhere obvious.

Metatron was standing just behind their Parent, almost invisible against Their glory, and they looked disappointed that their work was done.

Gabriel inclined their head. "Of course, I will do this."

The only problem was actually finding a vessel that would suit them.

Of course Gabriel knew the requirements - but knowing and doing so were two different things, and yet it was much simpler than they expected.

The woman was a simple herder, who thought that Gabriel was one of her gods and that she had been chosen.

Gabriel mulled over how to take this, and decided to use the advantage they were given. _Not exactly,_ they told her, seeing what she thought was happening. The woman had fallen to her knees in the middle of her herd. _Not what you think._ And of course, Gabriel knew - it was easy to peer into the minds of their Parent's other creations.

"Then what?" The woman spoke aloud, voice trembling from fear and elation - these humans, with their _emotions -_ and Gabriel wondered what to say.

 _I must complete this mission, but -_ How to phrase it so she would accept? _I require an earthly body._ That sounded godlike, didn't it?

The woman swallowed. "Mine?"

_Yes. I must be granted permission first._

A smile graced her lips, one that spoke of a hidden nervousness - Gabriel could see it coursing through her. "I...shall I be safe?"

 _Of course._ How dangerous could this mission be?

"Then...I accept. Of course you may enter."

Taking a vessel was _cramped,_ before it was anything else.

Gabriel _panted,_ trying to get used to the packed-in feeling, and remained crouched on the ground where the woman had fallen when they shot down from Heaven.

A simple human - with the might of an archangel contained inside them.

Slowly, Gabriel stood up, looking down and marveling at the new viewpoint. This was what it was like for humans?

How limited.

Gabriel turned their vessel's hands over, getting used to the movement and how it felt to control her. The woman was a small, sheltered soul crouched in the back of their mind - there was no need for her to know what was going on.

The tablets had been given a physical form as well, and they lay on the ground only a few feet away. The woman's herd had scattered when Gabriel first reached down with their Grace to speak to her, and they showed no sign of returning anytime soon. The woman had named them, and those names, fluid syllables of the Sumerian tongue, ran through her thoughts as the soul nested further away from Gabriel.

Gabriel took a few careful steps forward, and then more confident ones, until they could reach down and pick up the tablets.

Now where to put them?

* * *

When Gabriel left the vessel, the woman - Iltani, her mind told them - did not get back up.

They frowned, and looked at her carefully. She was still alive - Gabriel didn't understand why she remained lying on the ground.

 _Gabriel._ Raphael's voice became more insistent over the regular chatter of the angels. _Return. You have done what you were supposed to do._

 _There's something wrong with the vessel,_ Gabriel replied, frowning at Iltani. _I think something went wrong._

They could sense Raphael more strongly now, and knew that their sibling must be looking down at Earth to see their vessel. Then, the presence withdrew sharply.

_It is nothing, Gabriel. Return._

Still frowning, Gabriel let themselves recede back to Heaven. Raphael was waiting.

"Well?" No doubt they already knew what had happened, but wanted to hear Gabriel's confirmation.

"It is done," Gabriel replied. "About the vessel-"

"What about it?"

"Why is it nothing?" Gabriel pressed. "Surely it is _something,_ if they will not get back up like they normally do after a fall."

"It is merely a aftereffect," Raphael dismissed Gabriel's concerns. "Archangels are large. Humans are not meant to withstand it."

Gabriel stared. "They were an archangel vessel."

"And it lasted long enough for you to complete your mission, did it not?" Raphael stared imperiously back at Gabriel. "It is still alive, is it not?"

"Will they-"

"Enough, Gabriel." Raphael cut off their question. "Why do you worry so much?"

"I promised them they would be safe." It came out quieter than Gabriel intended.

"Then no longer waste your time on promises to humans," Raphael offered, as if it were the most obvious solution.

Somehow, Gabriel did not think that it was a solution at all.

* * *

"Michael?" Gabriel did not think summons from their eldest sibling was necessarily a good thing, especially since this would be the first time they had spoken since Lucifer's rebellion, but they hoped all the same.

Michael was standing with their wings facing Gabriel, looking through the doors into the universe.

"Gabriel," They replied after a moment. "I have another job for you."

"From our-" From our Parent, Gabriel was going to ask, but Michael continued before Gabriel could finish.

"There are two cities," They said, "Of that human civilization you visited last time. And one other."

Two civilizations? Gabriel thought and realized that Michael must have meant Sumer and Akkadia, which had been growing ever closer of late. "What cities? There are many of them."

Michael replied by way of a picture, showing Gabriel two cities - close to each other, near a large river which sustained their populations.

"What of them?" Nothing seemed particularly wrong about them to Gabriel.

"Destroy them." The news was delivered sharply, which seemed to have become Michael's permanent default tone.

Gabriel was temporarily taken aback, and it took them a moment to recover their voice. "Destroy them?"

"That's what I said."

"Why?" The moment the question was spoken Gabriel knew they had made a mistake.

Michael turned around in a flurry of wings, red and gold and bronze creating the illusion of actual fire - which, Gabriel thought in a dim corner of their mind, is probably what their Parent had intended.

"Why?" Michael repeated dangerously. "I don't recall you questioning orders, Gabriel."

"I'm not," Gabriel hurried to defend themselves, and stiffened when Michael was suddenly much, much closer to them.

"Then," Michael said quietly, " _Go."_

Two human cities. Somehow, Gabriel did not think it was the buildings or the land that had committed the crime.

They left.

* * *

It was daytime.

Almost noon.

Peaceful, really, and Gabriel hadn't even been given a reason as to why these cities were supposed to be destroyed.

Their vessel was male this time, from a different city than Iltani, though Gabriel could tell that they had at least remnants of the same bloodline - which is why he made the best vessel Gabriel could find.

And apparently, they weren't the only one who wanted to know.

"So you are here as well." Gabriel tamped down their surprise at being confronted by these two unknown beings - they did not know the two, and were therefore at a disadvantage.

"Surprised?" Leered the black one - literally black, as if covered in ash, and dressed in the barest coverings that resembled Akkadian clothing. Their tongue poked through their lips, which were a startling white, like the designs which swirled over their skin. "You wouldn't know us, no, not you, but we know who _you_ are."

"Silence," The other one hissed. They were blue, with patterns of a slightly darker hue on their skin, but that was where the similarities ended. They were dressed about as differently as it was possible to be dressed from someone, and carried a belt full of what appeared to be ingredients. "This is not your place."

"Oh, isn't it?" The black one seemed to find that hilarious. "If anything, this isn't your place." They spoke in a rasping mix of Sumerian and Akkadian that made use of so much slang that it was difficult to understand. The blue one puffed up in indignation.

"Begone, Namtar."

"Oh, _you_ begone. I know where I'm needed, and this is it." The black one - Namtar - grinned wildly at Gabriel, who turned away to look back at the two cities. "Isn't it?"

"Why are you here?" Gabriel asked, mind racing at how these two beings - the gods of Naharaim - could be standing here in front of them.

"I should be asking you that." The blue one finally spoke to Gabriel. "You are bringing death and destruction with you, there is no other reason _it_ would be here."

"Shut up, Marduk." Namtar's face had transformed into a scowl. "It's my business here, not yours."

"It is the business of neither of you," Gabriel informed them, still wondering where they had come from - their Parent certainly wouldn't have created anything like _this._

"That is where you make your mistake," The blue one said. "It is my business, when my people are threatened."

"Oh stuff it, Marduk," Namtar snapped back. As opposed to their fellow's stiff and hostile attitude, they seemed almost thrilled. "Let them do their business!"

"You would do well to heed your companion." Gabriel advised - they had no wish for conflict.

"I heed no one," The blue one - Marduk - snapped. "It is you who will heed me, when I say that you must _leave."_

Well, no offense to this Marduk, but Gabriel took orders from a higher power than _them._

"Whatever your power," Gabriel told them, turning slightly and fanning their wings out, "Be assured, mine is greater."

"Threats now?" Marduk sneered. "You think you're better just because you've been around longer. You have no dominion over these humans."

"They are my Parent's creations," Gabriel informed them stiffly, blade sliding into their hand and they never thought they'd be grateful to Michael for militarizing Heaven. "It is you who have come second and are demanding all."

"They pray to _me,"_ Marduk hissed. "Offerings for me, and peopled devoted to _me._ Tell me, where is your Parent in all that?"

"They know no better."

Marduk seemed to lose their temper, and Namtar stepped back to watch as their companion threw themselves at Gabriel.

Gabriel's blade came up with a flash, and Marduk was thrown back, grasping at their arm with a howl.

"Do not interfere," Gabriel warned them. "I have my orders. They do not involve you."

Marduk glared, but vanished without another whisper. Gabriel turned to Namtar, who stepped back and raised their hands.

"You bring death," They said, with a broad grin. "Lucky for you, that's my area of expertise. Do what you will."

Gabriel sheathed their blade and turned back towards the cities, trying to ignore the being behind them.

And then stopped, because something was wrong.

* * *

"There were _who?"_

Gabriel watched Michael carefully as their sibling paced furiously, Raphael just behind them. "They were gods-"

"They are not gods," Michael snapped, and Gabriel shifted backwards. "There is no God but-"

"That is what they called themselves, I did not say I believed it." They explained quickly. "They were - I do not know what they were."

Michael resumed pacing, wings flared behind them. "Tell me what they called themselves."

"They were called Marduk and Namtar."

"The names of two of those the humans worship," Raphael muttered.

"This is not possible." Michael rounded on both of them. "Where did they come from?"

Gabriel looked to Raphael, who looked just as lost as they felt. "I don't know." Raphael told Michael.

Gabriel shook their head. "They were like nothing I've ever seen. Michael-"

"They must have come from somewhere."

"Why not ask Parent?" Gabriel almost snapped the question. "Michael, listen-"

Michael turned away, but Gabriel swore they saw a scowl on their sibling's face. "I cannot interrupt Them with such trivial news as this," Michael decided, coming to a halt. "It is nothing."

"Nothing?" Gabriel didn't believe it. "Michael, I may have defeated Marduk easily, but they had _power._ They were not _human,_ and we don't know where they came from-"

"I know, Gabriel." The words were almost a solid wall that Gabriel felt they had run straight into. "So you have said. But you defeated them easily, yes?"

"Yes," Gabriel admitted.

"What of the other one?"

"They were a darker g - being," Gabriel amended. "They did not try to stop me - the one called Namtar."

"Namtar," Raphael murmured. "Gabriel, have you seen that name before? You have been in their cities more frequently."

"No," Gabriel shook their head, the news they needed to give Michael itching at them. "But the people - in Naharaim, I mean. They have some beings that they believe bring death with them. They may have been one of those. And there was something else-"

"Could..." Raphael paused before continuing, ignoring or not noticing the dirty look Gabriel threw at them. "Could their belief that this being was real have caused this?"

Michael's head was bowed, not in subservience, but in thought. "It is possible," They said decisively. "Raphael. Keep an eye on this situation. I am sure our Parent already knows, so do not bother Them."

Raphael looked conflicted. "I - yes, Michael. I will do as you say."

"And Gabriel?" Gabriel switched their view to look at Michael, who practically loomed despite the distance between them and Gabriel. "Say nothing of this to the lesser angels."

" _That is not all_." Gabriel said forcefully, having paused only for a moment to wonder why it was necessary for Michael to tell them that.

"Not all?" Michael turned to face Gabriel fully, sounding almost startled. "What else..." Their voice trailed off, Grace extending down to Earth, and Gabriel winced as Michael's face hardened.

"Gabriel," Michael said icily, "Why are Sodom and Gomorrah still there?"

"I was trying to tell you," Gabriel said quickly. "There is something else there - the city is full of them."

"Full of-" Michael's Grace extended further and then snapped back as they recoiled with a hiss.

"Michael?" Raphael sounded worried.

"Demons," Michael spat, making both of the other archangels stiffen.

"There are more of them?" Gabriel said, trying not to convey their alarm and doing poorly at succeeding.

"Raphael - gather your garrison." Michael snapped. "Gabriel - you too!"

Gabriel shot off, the knowledge that Lillit was not the only demon hanging uneasily in their mind.

* * *

The demons were not expecting an attack.

That didn't mean they went down easily.

 _Gabriel, I need you at the center!_ Gabriel whirled around, sending their blade through the head of the nearest demon, who collapsed with a series of lightning-like sparks which illuminated their skeleton, and Gabriel vanished as soon as they were sure it was dead.

Michael was at almost the exact center of the fight, which was easy to find, because them and their combatant had completely destroyed any remnant of the two cities around their feet.

And oh, Gabriel almost flinched back when they landed, because the demon Michael was fighting was _disgusting._

Hulking and monstrous, its face was torn into a perpetual mocking grin as it danced far to gracefully around Michael as the archangel did the same, whirling and craning its head to face Gabriel.

"Two of you," It rasped, amused. "How unfair."

"You're the last one to talk about fair, demon." Michael leveled their sword at it, flames licking along its length with nowhere near the intensity that they had when they were facing Lucifer. "You call yourself a Knight of Hell, but you're just scum."

" _I'm_ not fair?" The demon prowled around Michael, the two of them moving in a circle, Gabriel hanging behind Michael with their blade out and waiting for an opportunity. "I'm scum? Well, then, I guess I'd better bring more along to better my chances."

Gabriel sensed the presence - choking and smoky and _horrible -_ behind them just in time to spin and deflect the tarnished blade that nearly nicked the edge of their Grace.

The second demon smirked, and they were nearly on the same level as the first one in terms of how twisted and corrupted they were.

Gabriel, with a small modicum of relief, did not recognize them, which meant they were not fighting one of their fallen siblings.

"Think this'll be easy, angel?" The demon sneered, and pushed.

Gabriel had no time to think of anything but where there blade was, deflect that attack, spin to face the demon, wings out of the way, charge, dodge Michael and the other one and-

The demon's blade found one of their wings and Gabriel _screeched_ their pain, sending the demons nearest to their knees and the ones even closer simply keeling over in death throes. The demon had caught them unawares and managed to press the advantage, Gabriel desperately trying to deal with the _pain Parent help_ sparking through their wing while fending off the demon's attacks, but they were so unused to actually being injured that it was hopeless.

Michael was fighting their own battle - Gabriel expected no help from that front.

"Scared?" The demon was still sneering, and its hand shot out and wrapped around Gabriel's throat. Gabriel, with a thrill of fear, realized something they had not acknowledged before.

This demon was more powerful than they were.

The mere shock of that sudden understanding meant that Gabriel barely jerked themselves to the side - as much as they could, in this position and with the demon's hand burning into their neck - to avoid a second slice from the Knight's blade; for of course, Gabriel had heard of the Knights of Hell, even if they hadn't fully understood the destruction one could cause until now.

"Little angel," crooned the demon, and Gabriel scowled and lashed out, striking the demon across the chest and making it rear backwards - but not let go.

"Still got a bite, have you? No matter, we'll-" Whatever it was about to say was cut off with a sudden choking noise, and Gabriel stared in uncomprehending shock at the silver blade buried in its chest.

Things still didn't make sense once the blade withdrew, letting the demon slide out of the way to reveal Michael, who tugged Gabriel to their feet.

Their sibling's eyes found the gash on the top edge of Gabriel's wing and a snarl crept across their face, and the now-empty and scarred vessel at their feet abruptly burst into flame.

"Are you alright?" Michael's hand covered the gash.

"Yes." Gabriel grimaced as their wound stung even worse under Michael's hand, and then full-out winced when Michael squeezed it - it felt like their sibling was _burning_ their wing. "Michael-!"

But when Michael took their hand away, the injury looked more like a cut than a wound from a demon's blade.

"Thank you," Gabriel said, and Michael turned away.

"It is nothing. You need your wings."

Yet it was the most sentimental Michael had been since Lucifer, and Gabriel tucked their wing close to their body and swore to remember it.

* * *

Gabriel did not know whether they were glad or upset when the human empire - the Akkadians - fell, but they voiced neither of these feelings to Michael, who seemed to believe that it was not the angel's job to _feel_ for the humans, but to watch what they did. It was only very rarely, and only at the express command of their Parent, that they were allowed to interfere.

It was many years before the people of the Akkadian culture settled again, and those who did now called themselves _B'nei Yisrael -_ The children of Israel. Jacob - who had taken the name Israel after believing himself to have defeated an angel - was regarded as their patriarch, and it almost made Gabriel copy the humans and laugh at the inflated sense of strength Israel believed himself to have.

An angel was not so easily defeated, but orders were orders, and Balthazar had been assigned to give Israel the dream. A mental battle may not have been exactly what the boy remembered, nor would it hold nearly as much honor as defeating an angel in a wrestling match would, but either way it had the intended effect.

Their Parent had an unusual interest in the B'nei Yisrael, but that could easily be attributed to the fact that the people actually worshipped Them.

So much time had passed between the burgeoning empire of the Akkadians and the founding of the country of Yisrael that Gabriel barely recognized their civilizations - not that they paid much attention to the development of humans outside those they were charged to look after.

This in particular required careful attention.

A famine which swept the land many years after the first settlement had forced Israel's people to relocate to Egypt, across a narrow strait of land between two seas and into the land of the Pharaohs.

The pharaoh at first welcomed them, but that was before the Hebrew's population swelled from seventy to hundreds of thousands.

And therein lay the problem.

Gabriel watched with narrowed eyes as the Hebrews labored, occasionally doing what they could under the strict 'non-interference' Michael had imposed on them to help those who were older or injured. They had possessed one of the Egyptian overseers, and felt no grief for the the fact that he would most likely not survive long after Gabriel left, never mind that he had a family.

The Egyptians claimed that they were the glory of the world, and yet they used slaves to do what they refused to.

"Magnificent, is it not?"

Gabriel did not immediately react to the voice that spoke behind them, and then drew behind one of the pillars that had already been finished so that they were out of sight, before turning to face the speaker.

She was clearly Egyptian, and rich at that, and if someone had never seen the Pharoah or his wife before they might say that the woman standing in front of Gabriel was she, but Gabriel knew better. That, and the headdress she wore bearing the hieroglyph for the throne told them otherwise.

They did not incline their head as a greeting. "Iset," They said, and the goddess's kohl-lined eyes glittered.

"Jibra'il," She greeted, borrowing the Arabic name. "I expected one of you sooner."

"You knew we would come?" Of course they would have guessed

"I thought you might have greater regard for your people." Iset's expression gave one the impression that she was either about to laugh at an inside joke or go for your throat.

"Yes," Gabriel replied, "They are my Father's people." Egyptian was gendered, even if Enochian was not, and it was easier to adopt the common method of referring to their Parent than to search for the right words in their vessel's mind. "And your people have enslaved them."

Iset laughed. "Can you blame Seti? He is worried. Your Hebrews could have matched his army person for person."

"And would they have?"

"Perhaps." The smile on Iset's face did not change. "Perhaps not. Who was he to risk it?"

"Was it worth this risk?" Gabriel let their wings unfold, flickering light, and they knew Iset could see the challenge.

"You have done nothing," Iset sniffed. "Your father has let his people live under our rule. It is only their-"

"Place?" Gabriel's icy tone made Iset stop. "I suggest you think of another reason."

"You'll forgive me if I do not take your suggestion." Iset was a mother goddess, and it showed in her fierceness. "Egypt is not the only empire built on the backs of slaves, Jibra'il."

Gabriel stared at her evenly, not giving an inch. "Yes," They allowed quietly, "But it is the only one that has used my Father's people to do the building."

"I understand." For a moment Gabriel truly believed her, but the momentary expression slid out of Iset's eyes and then they didn't. "I am a mother, you know. I pieced my husband back together from nothing-"

"Not all of him." Gabriel reminded her, having known that much - their vessel knew plenty about his 'gods', being a devout Egyptian man. "Doesn't Wesir rule your underworld?"

Iset scowled momentarily at the reminder, but it was soon replaced with a grin that was all teeth. "Well, then." Iset said, in a tone that indicated that she did not believe that Gabriel was about to do anything. "Do what you will."

"I will keep that in mind." Gabriel turned to go, calling over their shoulder, "You should too, Iset, before you try and stop us."

They had discovered what they came here to find, and there was no other reason for staying.

* * *

"We _have_ to do something!"

"I said _no,_ Gabriel."

Gabriel grit their teeth, or would have had they still been in their vessel. "Michael, they are _enslaved._ They are broken - you cannot tell me that this is what our Parent has planned for Their people!"

"The Egyptians are Their people too."

"Not according to Iset. They _dared_ me to do something about it, Michael." By the way their sibling stiffened, Gabriel knew they had guessed right in thinking that the simple fact that a pagan goddess thought she could outdo them would sting. "Iset does not believe we will do anything to save the Yisraeli."

"What do I care for that pagan's thoughts?"

Michael did, though, and Gabriel knew it. "The Pharaoh had declared that every male Hebrew born should be killed, to prevent them rising up."

That did it.

" _What?"_ Michael whirled on Gabriel, wings flared in agitation and anger. "They _dare-"_

"Which is why I came to you," Gabriel kept going. "If they think that they have this much control over our people, what will their pagans think?" They barely stopped themselves from saying 'gods' - Michael was antagonized enough already.

The implication was enough to make the eldest archangel seethe, but Michael straightened themselves and stood still for some time.

When they finally spoke again, their voice was much calmer. "I cannot act on the humans unless Parent orders me to."

"Michael, they need _help."_ Gabriel stepped closer, tone taking on a pleading edge. _"_ We're supposed to guide them - haven't you been listening? They've been _praying_ for guidance for-"

What followed was the closest phrase in Enochian that has ever been translated into something remotely resembling a measure of time, but it's so impossible to pronounce that no one has any idea how to write it, so I'll leave it up to your imagination.

"I know, Gabriel!" The irritation Michael felt seemed to spend itself in that one shout, and Michael's wings sagged slightly. "I have heard them."

They were both quiet for a moment, Gabriel not willing to break the silence and Michael making no attempt to continue talking.

"I will ask Them," Michael said quietly, "And, Gabriel, you know; whatever They say-"

"I'll listen to them," Gabriel finished.

"And if They rule not to interfere?"

Gabriel paused for such a long time that Michael must have thought they left, but they said it anyway. "Then I won't interfere."

"Good." Michael's wings rustled in unmistakeable preparation for taking off.

"Where are you going?"

"Gabriel, you of all of us should know that Revelation is to be sought alone."

* * *

Gabriel had been given a Message.

They almost felt nervous as they descended to Earth again, taking no vessel this time but simply watching at a safe distance - the humans would never be able to withstand the sight of their true form. The Greeks, at least, had gotten that much right.

The Midianites had taken in Mosheh, as their Parent had told Gabriel. The desert camp was full of dancing people that night, a bonfire lit and people grouped around it, either sitting or dancing or playing one of the instruments humans had invented by this point.

Gabriel knew Moses was sitting near the edge of the group, too wary to go closer - the man's soul was brighter than those of the people around him, and Gabriel bent closer to see what had driven Mosheh out of Egypt - they knew what had happened, they just didn't know why.

The pharaoh, the Hebrews, a woman - who was also present at the campfire, Gabriel noted, though she seemed to be doing her best to avoid Mosheh - and an escape.

A man beating a Hebrew, and Mosheh intervening and killing the man.

An encounter in the Hebrew village, with a woman named Miriam who told Mosheh what she knew of him, that she was his sister, and his true origins.

Gabriel withdrew again before they overwhelmed the man and watched for a little longer. The time do deliver their Message would come, but it was not now - not right now, anyway.

Soon.

* * *

_Mosheh._

Gabriel saw the man look around nervously, his flock retreating, and wanting to follow it. Gabriel repeated the name, more insistently.

_Mosheh._

They could see the moment the man noticed the fiery bush. His eyes widened, and his hands gripped his staff tightly, as if he thought the fire were an enemy he would need to fight off.

Gabriel laughed, but it did not translate well, as they were manifesting themselves in fire in the only plant for miles. _That is not necessary._

"This is..." Mosheh started, as if in a sudden realization, and kicked off his sandals hurriedly, falling to his knees.

 _I have a Message for you, from He who is called Yaweh._ Gabriel almost rolled their eyes at the male specification, but otherwise this would take too long to explain to Mosheh.

"Me?" Mosheh whispered. "But...that man...I cannot-"

 _Trust that His decision is right, Mosheh._ Gabriel replied. _He has chosen you, and you shall carry His message to the pharaoh of this land._

"The pharaoh?" A wash of anxiety rippled through Mosheh, and Gabriel saw that he was afraid to return to Egypt - to the people that had fostered him.

 _He has overstepped his boundaries with the Hebrews, who were the B'nei Yisrael before their enslavement,_ Gabriel whispered the information to Mosheh. _You must tell him that he can no longer bind them to his will._

_The pharaoh must let the people of Israel go._

"He will not." Mosheh's voice was shaky. "He will never...Rameses is too proud."

_Which is why it is you who must tell him._

"He will not listen to me."

_He will. So He has said, so it shall be. You will liberate the Hebrews, Mosheh._

Gabriel saw Mosheh swallow in nervousness - or at least they assumed he was nervous; human emotions were so complicated - and then bow his head. "What must I do?"

 _Go to your people and your wife._ Gabriel had seen his joining to Tzipporah, and though they didn't understand the ritual, they had understood the happiness it brought not only to the two of them but the rest of the Midianites as well. _Tell them what I have told you, and then go to Egypt and bring my Father's message to the pharaoh._

Gabriel saw the instant that Mosheh realized what was speaking to him.

"An angel..." The whisper left Mosheh's mouth, and then he seemed to sag for barely a moment. "But I am only one man."

 _You have your staff._ Gabriel reached out with the faintest whisper of Grace, so as not to blind Mosheh, and curled it around the staff, imbuing it with power beyond what any stick had ever held - or would ever hold. _Now go, and have faith in your mission._

They only wished that Mosheh would have better luck than the last few 'chosen' Hebrews did.

* * *

Gabriel was there when Mosheh entered the hall of the pharaoh.

They were the Messenger, after all, and it would not do for the Message to get lost along the way.

"Mosheh!" The pharaoh - Rameses - seemed overjoyed to see Mosheh, if confused at finding him in the garb of the Midianites. "Where have you been?"

Gabriel didn't bother to listen to their small talk and cast a glance over the rest of the hall, gaze finding the two priests in white robes. A smirk curved their vessel's face for a moment - even for priests of the Egyptian pagans, their power was so pitiful Gabriel was surprised they managed to trick their way into being court magicians.

"Brother," Mosheh said softly to Rameses, "You must let the Hebrews go."

And then the priests surprised Gabriel.

Sticks into snakes were all very good, but smoke and mirrors only served to trick a human audience, and yet there was a very real power in the names they used, one that Gabriel didn't fully understand and regarded carefully, staying at the back of the audience that was gathered in the throne room of the pharaoh's palace, while Rameses sat on his throne with dark eyes and dark thoughts.

Gabriel saw, and knew that it would take more than Mosheh's words to convince the pharaoh.

* * *

Mosheh tried a second time, later that night, when Rameses beckoned for them to talk alone.

"Rameses, you must listen to me!"

"No, Mosheh. What is this for?" The pharaoh laughed, a low, short, amused sound. "Since when have you been so devoted to the Hebrew's god?"

"He gave me a message," Mosheh said, firm and resolute. "He is a powerful god, Rameses, and if you do not listen-"

"Powerful?" This time the pharaoh's laugh made anger swell in Gabriel, but they pushed it down and listened, unmoving. "Powerful enough to let his people live in slavery?"

"I do not know what He will do if you refuse me," Mosheh said quietly. "Brother, please; let the Hebrews go."

"More of this?" Rameses turned around, facing Mosheh with a goblet full of some alcoholic drink in one hand. "Enough, Mosheh. Come back! Stop this nonsense with the Hebrews." He held out a ring, gold set with a blue stone rare to the region. "Nothing you have done will be held against you."

Gabriel knew the stone must have some significance to Mosheh, and knew how tempting the offer must sound.

So with whispered instructions from Michael in their non-physical approximation of an ear, they reached out to Mosheh and gave him another Message, straight into their mind, so that Mosheh would _know_ what to tell the pharaoh.

"They are His children." Mosheh said, stating a fact to the unwilling pharaoh. "You must let them go, to serve Him as a son would a parent, or He will slay your sons."

The pharaoh laughed a final time. "Let the god of the Hebrews come - I am not afraid."

Issued permission from both the pharaoh and Iset herself - it was more than enough to allow the angels to intervene.

When They made a promise, after all, They kept it.

* * *

When the people of Egypt awoke to find the Nile was now a river of blood, they were more shocked than anything.

The water was what their civilization had been founded around, what had given life to a sprawling near-empire, and they had no other source of water nearby save the oases in the desert. The fish in the river died, as well as any other animals, and Egypt was filled with a stench that would not leave.

But the pharaoh did not bend, believing his magicians to have the same power, and remained unconvinced.

"They are stubborn," Raphael allowed, though they looked frustrated. "But they will bend soon enough."

Gabriel didn't think so, and thought to themselves that their siblings lent too little credence to the resilience of humans.

How else would they have survived this long, otherwise?

But it also made them uneasy, for Gabriel knew that their Parent must know this as well, which meant They intended for more than just a river of blood to punish the Egyptians.

And Gabriel did not know what was coming.

* * *

Frogs, lice, flies, famine and plague, a storm of firey hail that Gabriel themselves were involved in creating.

Locusts, a perpetual darkness, and now this.

Twice the pharaoh had promised to free the Hebrews and then gone back on his word, but somehow Gabriel did not think that he would so quickly change his mind now.

Gabriel's vessel was one of the few boys that had survived, an Egyptian who had wanted nothing more than for his life to simply be over with, tired of plagues and problems. Gabriel had felt only a twinge as they granted the boy's wish, and gave themselves a vessel.

Egypt was quiet, and the dirt road crunched under their vessel's sandals. Occasionally a wail of grief would rise from one of the houses, but it was early, and none of the mothers had yet woken to find their dead sons.

The death of every firstborn boy in Egypt had grated on Gabriel's conscience, when Michael first delivered the news, accompanied by a command to gather their garrison for a second Earth-fought war.

Except this time their enemy was defenseless, anticipating nothing like this sudden death that would come into their homes.

The angels had passed over the houses marked with blood, sparing the firstborn boys inside those dwellings, but only the Hebrews had been warned to mark their homes in that manner.

If the pharaoh had not yielded before, then perhaps the death of his own son - the only one born of his wife so far - would convince him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and comment, please!


	5. Descent into Disloyalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a note, in this chapter we get into a lot of the more strictly Biblical stuff -like, super-Biblical. Mary and Joseph Biblical. I'll try and do it justice but I don't want to spend a ton of time on that because honestly, that gets enough attention already.
> 
> Honestly, I'd like to focus a lot more on the message Gabriel gave to Muhammad, simply because it doesn't usually get a lot of attention in mainstream media - at least, from what I've seen. The Qur'an is undervalued, although from a religious point of view I guess having it be less involved in capitalism would be a good thing?
> 
> Also, yes. Gabriel is totally bros with Hermes. I know Gabriel is still 'in' Heaven at this point, but there had to be some sort of lead-up to his leaving, and he had to get the idea to join the pagans somewhere!

"Are we to do nothing?"

It was many years later, by the human's reckoning. Mosheh had died ages ago, having lived a long life and committed the rescued Hebrews to their life and to the Torah which their Parent gave to Mosheh to write down.

But that was all so long ago that many kings and their descendants had passed in rule over the Israelites, and now the kingdoms themselves had fallen and the Israelites were once again enslaved - this time to the Babylonians.

"You know what they have done, Gabriel." Michael replied. "It is our Parent's will."

Gabriel bit back the reply that sprang to their mind - yes, they knew what the kings of Israel had done, the blasphemy that had occurred, but was that really a reason to condemn them to more years of slavery?

Michael, in any case, seemed to guess what Gabriel was thinking. "This is not like Egypt, Gabriel. It was planned."

"And that makes it better?"

"That makes it just." Michael turned to look at Gabriel - it seemed to Gabriel like they were always talking with the former's back to them. "Are you questioning the Plan?"

The Plan. Everything their Parent intended to happen to the humans and their world, but only Michael knew the whole of it. Gabriel and Raphael knew what bits Michael deigned to share with them, and gave their garrisons orders based on that knowledge, but they never knew more than bits.

"I'm not questioning anything." Why did Gabriel always end up on the defensive when speaking to Michael? "I'm just saying - these people are our _Parent's_ people, so why is it that they always seem to get the worst end of Their plan?"

"If they are to be assured of our Parent's existence, then there must be suffering for Them to release them from." Michael said firmly. "And this is a punishment, Gabriel, you know that the Israeli were forbidden to worship other beings. _They_ knew, too, so it is their own fault for breaking the commandments."

It was hard to argue with someone who was completely assured of their position and the fact that they were right. Gabriel bit back a sharp retort and turned away.

"Where are you going?"

"Elsewhere," Gabriel replied shortly. They needed to be somewhere other than Heaven right now.

* * *

This was ridiculous.

Why - of _all things -_ would their Parent choose _now_ to make another one of Their children?

And why have a _human_ bear it?

Gabriel steamed over this as they descended to Israel to [for the third time] deliver a Message. This, however, was the first time that a message had confused them so much. It almost overwhelmed the relief they had felt at finally hearing from their Parent again, even if it was on such official terms.

Gabriel was well aware that the time for private conversations had long since passed by.

But _why_? Why this? It just didn't make any sense.

Their Parent's reasoning was utterly inexplicable to Gabriel, even more so than usual, and it was with a perhaps overly aggressive flap of their wings that they landed on the outskirts of Nazareth, stirring up the sand that blanketed the desert region and making the women draw their scarves closer to protect their faces.

Then Gabriel saw her.

Mary was only one of several girls grouped together, laughing and shaking sand out of their clothing, but it was easy to pick her out from the group.

No one else Gabriel had seen so far on Earth had had a soul so bright. Mosheh might have come closer than the rest, but he didn't even begin to compare.

And Gabriel found themselves a little less reluctant to deliver such a strange message.

* * *

They probably could have delivered it a little better, though, Gabriel mused, pride smarting.

Angels did not get whacked over the head with chairs.

At least their Parent had chosen someone who could take care of themselves.

* * *

"What's going on?" They left for the _tiniest_ break and everything went crazy in their absence. Gabriel didn't want to think of what might happen if they left for good.

"It has already happened, Gabriel." Raphael looked slightly pained, which was new. "You can't do anything about it."

"Can't do anything about _what,_ Raphael?"

"Paschar."

"Paschar?" Gabriel repeated, nonplussed. The minor angel wasn't that powerful, but they were one of the guardians of the room their Parent usually occupied - what could have happened to them?

Voicing this question only made Raphael look even more awkward.

"They went to Michael with some questions," Raphael eventually replied, "And Michael did not like what they were asking."

Gabriel got the gist immediately.

"No." They didn't realize they were moving until Raphael's hand had clamped down on their shoulder to stop them.

"Gabriel, _stop."_ Raphael hissed. _"Think._ You cannot do anything about it, and confronting Michael will do you no good!"

"And why not?" Gabriel whirled on their brother in a fit of frustration and anger. "Where is Paschar?"

"On Earth."

"With or without their Grace?"

"Without." Raphael met Gabriel's angry gaze steadily. "Gabriel, please, do not do this."

"Why?" Gabriel demanded. "What did Paschar do?"

Raphael sighed. "Paschar thought they had reason to believe that they were guarding nothing but an empty room."

It took a moment for Gabriel to absorb their meaning.

"That's not possible. Michael would know-"

"Which is why they were so upset."

Gabriel frowned. "Raphael, that doesn't make sense."

Raphael nodded, but the words that came out of their mouth were not the ones Gabriel expected to hear.

"How could Paschar have thought that?" Raphael said, honest confusion in their tone and making Gabriel frown. "Obviously, our Parent is still here. Who else would be guiding Michael?"

"That's not what I meant," Gabriel began, and Raphael's gaze sharpened.

"Then," They said, not letting Gabriel finish, "I would advise you not to say what you did mean."

Gabriel paused, letting Raphael's seriousness sit between them. "What, then?" They finally asked. "Pretend I'm not bothered by Paschar's loss? By the fact that they were cast down just because-"

"Yes, Gabriel." Raphael interrupted again.

"I can't do that."

"You can." Raphael's hand tightened. "You _must._ Gabriel, please-" Raphael looked away and then back almost immediately, expression softening. "Don't make me lose you, too."

Gabriel stopped.

They had never really thought about how things must have affected Raphael. They were certainly close to Lucifer, being closer in age than Gabriel [don't think about all the things you learned from Lucifer, don't think about how it could have gone] but they were always so stoic following the fall that it was difficult to tell what they were feeling most of the time.

Come to think of it, this was the most emotional Gabriel had seen them in a long time.

"Fine," They said, pretending not to see how Raphael immediately relaxed. "But that doesn't mean I'm okay with it."

"I'm not asking you to be."

Which was good, because Gabriel couldn't deny that Paschar's banishment was a sore spot - but something else nagged at them that they didn't want to acknowledge.

* * *

Anael's entrance was messy and frantic, and Gabriel noticed it immediately and turned to face them.

"Is it true?" They demanded. "Paschar's gone?"

"Yes."

Anael faltered, wings drawing closer to their body. "Why?" They asked, suddenly looking much smaller.

"You knew them?"

"We'd talk, sometimes." Anael said quietly.

"I'm sorry."

"Like you could have done anything about it," Anael replied, suddenly bitter. "It was Michael, wasn't it?"

Gabriel almost lied and said they could have stopped it, to give Anael an outlet for their frustration. "Yes."

"Paschar didn't _do_ anything!" And then the bitterness was gone, replaced with a sort of fury that paled in comparison to what Michael would look like if they knew what Anael was doing. "They were just nervous!"

"Nervous why?" Raphael had given Gabriel a reason, true, but Gabriel had the feeling they weren't being given the whole story.

Anael shook their head. "They wouldn't tell me much. Just that...it didn't seem like there was anyone there." They looked up at Gabriel. "There is, isn't there?"

"Of course," Gabriel replied automatically. "Where else would They be?"

Anael looked only mildly reassured. "That's what I told Paschar," They muttered, "But they didn't listen."

"Don't blame yourself." Gabriel tried to reassure them.

"I could have convinced them."

"No, you couldn't have." Gabriel sighed. "Anael..." But they didn't have any more to say that would persuade Anael, who was one of the stubbornest angels Gabriel knew.

Anael spoke again. "They said there was no way for us to tell."

"What?"

"Paschar." Anael's wings were almost completely wrapped around them, a protective measure. "They said there was no way for any of us to know if our Parent was still there."

"Of course there is."

"For _you."_ Anael reminded Gabriel. "You and Michael and Raphael. And Joshua, but Joshua only ever _talks_ to Them. None of the rest of us have ever even seen Them. How are we supposed to know if They're still there?"

"Anael, don't." Gabriel was aware of how much of a hypocrite they were being, warning Anael away from the same train of thought they had been warned away from, but it was necessary. Gabriel was an archangel, and knew Michael - if Michael grew angry at them, the most Gabriel would get would be nothing compared to what they might do to Anael.

"Thank you," Anael said after a pause, "For telling me the truth."

* * *

Gabriel remembered their original confusion over the Message they delivered to Mary, and reflected that not much had changed since then.

Their Parent must have known that this would happen, Gabriel knew that for sure, but could this really be the desired outcome?

One wouldn't think that one person could change so much. Except that one person ended up being very influential [even though his ideas boiled down to 'just be nice to other people and don't judge each other'] and those influences remained even after his ascendance to Heaven [and Gabriel was sure Michael was still smarting about that, because they didn't like breaking the rules for _anybody,_ even the Son of God] and grew and spread among so many people that things like this started happening.

'This' being Christianity declared the 'official religion' of the Roman Empire.

Theodosius, Gabriel decided, was either very confident or very stupid. The Romans had kept to the old gods for ages, and there would for sure be at least a few dissenters who refused to convert.

No doubt they would be 'persuaded' to the new line of thinking if they grew too vocal - or perhaps even if they didn't. Rome did not tolerate a lot of arguing in the ranks.

Gabriel considered this as they mingled with the crowds that were still lingering in the squares and - more so - the taverns, discussing the official notice that had gone out. A certain sect of Romans were still offended that Constantine had moved the capital to Byzantium [naming it after himself was not quite as inflammatory, it seemed] - it was, after all, Rome where all of this had started in the first place - and were especially miffed over this new announcement.

"Horrible, isn't it?"

Gabriel made a noncommittal noise. "I'm just observing."

"That's what you always say," The being complained, flicking dark hair out of his face. "'Observing'. You never do anything without the most specific possible reason you can muster."

"It's what I'm doing. You did ask."

"Well, observe away, because what you are watching is my death." The being said moodily.

"You're exaggerating, Hermes." And it was Hermes, because Mercury was stiffer and more formal, and for some reason a bit creepier than Hermes had ever been.

"Exaggerating?" Hermes was also a bit more dramatic about things. "He's getting rid of us! In favor of you, might I add," Hermes reminded Gabriel, looking sullen.

"I didn't have anything to do with this decision." Gabriel replied.

"You're not the only angel."

" _Heaven_ in general did not. People do make their own decisions, you know." Gabriel half-smiled - being around Hermes tended to make them do that, which is why they had continued visiting after a chance encounter in Greece back before all of this Christianity nonsense.

Hermes groaned in the back of his throat. "I know, but one of you always seems to be involved when your God gets brought up."

"I've told you this before, but we don't interfere half as much as you seem to think we do. And besides, this is the first time I've even been in this region." Gabriel pointed out.

"You've been to Greece."

"Last time I checked, Greece isn't Rome. My point is," Gabriel continued before Hermes could interrupt, "Is that the places we _have_ had a hand in things are all much farther south than Rome."

"What about the rest of the empire?" Hermes challenged. "And what about those Judeo-Roman wars a few decades ago? Surely you were involved in that."

"Michael doesn't think human wars are our business - especially when they're being done in our name," Gabriel replied dryly. "And at least we know that the Hebrews can take care of themselves. How involved were the Romans with their gods, again? I seem to remember temples and offerings and demands of sacrifices."

"Don't bring up the Romans right now," Hermes grumbled. "You're going to bring out Mercury, and I only just managed to switch back."

"The Greeks did the same thing."

"Like _you've_ never had a temple built to you."

"If you're referring to the High Temple in Israel, that was dedicated to my Father." Gabriel reminded him. "No angel's ever had a temple."

Hermes snorted. "Are you here just to argue with me?"

"I'd rather not, even though you're the one who started arguing." Gabriel let their gaze rest on the crowd below, more staring and not really seeing anything except the shift of souls as the people's bodies moved and hurried across the plaza.

Hermes let his line of sight follow Gabriel's, shifting so that he was leaning more easily against the wall behind the two of them. "What are you watching?"

"Nothing in particular."

"Them?" Hermes swept an arm out to indicate the humans. "Why, because your Father created them?"

"No need to sound so skeptical."

"Well, everyone knows that it was Prometheus who did that."

"And everyone knows," Gabriel replied, glancing sideways at Hermes, "That Mercury is not Hermes."

The being scowled, even as he flickered slightly, hair growing darker and skin lightening slightly for half a second. "That's rude."

"So is claiming that Christianity is wrong." Gabriel let themselves smile again, tone slipping into a teasing manner that [if Hermes ever asked] they would completely deny they got from the being they were talking to. "It's the official religion of the empire now, you know. You could be arrested for blasphemy."

Hermes huffed. "And Theodosius would do it, too, if he could catch me." There was a certain smug edge to his words - Hermes had always taken pride in his talents, something that had rubbed off a bit on Gabriel.

After all, they were both Messengers of a sort.

"Well, who knows. Maybe I'd help. It is my religion you're mocking."

"After all that about noninterference? You wouldn't dare."

"You just know I'd catch you."

"Please." Hermes drew himself up, posture somehow relaxed yet imposing and head tilted high. " _No one_ can catch me."

"Well..." An altercation on the other side of the plaza drew Gabriel's attention for a moment, the guards dragging off the unfortunate person away too quickly for them to really see, but it was sobering all the same, and made Gabriel remember something else they had noticed about Rome. "Maybe you can run fast enough to avoid what's coming to Rome."

Hermes frowned in confusion, then sighed. "Ah. Bring up a bad topic, why don't you? I was trying not to think about it."

"And that's going to help?" Gabriel asked, manipulating their vessel's face to try and get across to Hermes exactly what they thought of that idea.

"Well, I'm already dead." Hermes said bitterly. "I've only hung around this long because of the Greeks who still manage to worship properly, and Mercury. But now _Mercury_ and all the others are gone too, so how long will I be around?"

Gabriel remembered that humans used touch to comfort each other and put a hand on Hermes' shoulder, feeling relieved when he didn't shrug it off.

"Ideas can't be killed that easily."

"I'm not an _idea."_

"You were," Gabriel reminded him, "Originally. All you gods were."

"Yes, yes, you're older and all that, remind me again why don't you?" Hermes turned around sharply, surprising Gabriel. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair, obviously agitated. "Look, it's just...you don't understand."

"I do," Gabriel shot back, stung. They were just trying to help.

"No, you don't. You don't have to _depend_ on anyone for your power," Hermes snapped. "You don't have to worry about them forgetting about you because even if everyone in the world forgot about Gabriel and God and angels, _you'd still be there._ I can't do that."

No.

Gabriel didn't understand.

"I'm sorry," They offered, and Hermes snorted again.

"That's not going to do anything," He replied, grinning in a way that made Gabriel think that he was just pretending to grin. "But thanks anyway, old friend."

* * *

The Empire had fallen.

Gabriel had known it was coming, even last they spoke with Hermes [which, by the human's reckoning, had been almost a century ago]. Corrupt leaders, over-eager expansion, social 'warfare' between the people of Rome and everywhere else the former Republic had extended its influence - all added up to make a picture that was ready to break into pieces.

And it had.

Rome was finished.

Gabriel strode through the city, not pausing to pick their way the dust and rubble and occasional fire left behind by the invaders but simply striding over it. If someone had been watching the man - or so they would appear to be to the casual observer - they might have noticed that a path seemed to magically clear itself in front of the being as they walked.

Gabriel, however, might not have noticed a casual observer, because they were looking for someone.

This someone was surprisingly easy to find.

"Hermes."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you were alright."

That made Hermes laugh, and the sound echoed eerily among the destroyed buildings. "Alright?" He repeated once that had subsided. "I'm only here because Mercury's hiding. Bastard couldn't believe that his precious empire had actually fallen."

"He must have seen the signs."

"Ignored them." Hermes spat. "Mercury was the kind who thought he could make everything alright, except he was just as corrupt as the rest of this stupid empire and never actually did anything about it."

Rome was burning around them, and yet Gabriel didn't care. What was done was done - Hermes, they could still help.

"And what about you?" They asked cautiously, stepping over a boulder-sized chunk of rubble that shrank as they did so.

"I say _let it burn."_ Hermes spun on his heel to face Gabriel. His eyes were wild and lit with firelight. "What have the Romans ever done for me? Took me and changed me so that I wasn't even me anymore. What do I care about them?"

"They remembered Mercury," Gabriel said quietly, "And kept you alive."

"And for how long? Not a whole lot longer, with your cursed religion coming in and _ruining it!"_ Hermes' bellow caused a few buildings to drop some more pieces to the ground, and stirred the dust around their feet, pushing it away in a sudden breeze, but Gabriel stood their ground.

"Byzantium's still there," They said quietly, and Hermes looked at them almost desperately. "The...barbarians, or whatever you call them, only bothered with Rome. Constantinople still stands - and so does the east half of the empire." Gabriel allowed themselves a small smile, directed at Hermes. "The Greek half."

Hermes stared.

"Officially," Gabriel continued, "I'm not allowed to interfere, but..." They shrugged. "This is about as far from official as I can get, and Michael doesn't care about Rome."

Hermes was still staring. His arms had fallen to his sides, and without the yelling and intensity he looked drawn and pale - a far cry from the powerful god he had appeared to be only a second ago.

"Why?" He asked. "Why do you care?"

Gabriel smiled again.

"Call me sentimental," They replied, "But I like you better alive."

* * *

Another Message. Gabriel was staring to wonder why all of those who had been Chosen to receive revelation had all lived so close together, in the arid desert region almost directly to the south of the sea which bordered the old empire.

They were startled out of their thoughts when a bit of what Michael was saying filtered through to them.

"The _last one?"_

Michael looked irritated. "Yes, Gabriel. Have you been listening to a word of what I've said?"

"Why?" Gabriel asked, bewildered. "The last prophet? Why stop now?"

"Enough _questions,_ Gabriel." Michael's wings were puffed in agitation, and they turned away from the younger angel. "Can't you simply deliver the message?"

Gabriel's stubborn streak surfaced, and they narrowed their eyes at their sibling. "Why won't you answer?"

"Muhammad is intended to be the last true prophet, and that is all." Michael replied sharply.

"That's not an answer."

"I cannot see into our Parent's reasoning."

"They didn't tell you?" That was both a surprise and predictable; God kept most things, especially Their plans, to Themselves, but to not tell Michael, who knew almost everything They were planning?

"Contrary to whatever you believe," Michael replied, "I am not omniscient."

"They are," Gabriel retorted, suddenly feeling a measure of bravery they didn't know they possessed.

"I am not Them, Gabriel."

"I know, but They really didn't tell you why Muhammad will be the last?" Gabriel let their surprise show freely. "It's just that normally They tell you what-"

"Well, They didn't!" Michael snapped, interrupting Gabriel.

"I was just saying-"

"I know what you were saying."

"There's no need to get so defensive," Gabriel shot back, feeling themselves get riled up and their wings spread slightly.

"I'm not-" Michael paused, as if to collect themselves. "It is none of your business, Gabriel."

After so much time spent with Hermes, that was exactly the wrong thing to say.

"None of my business?" Gabriel repeated, scowling - or they would have been if they were in a vessel, but let's call it the nearest angel equivalent of scowling. "How about Paschar, is that my business?"

Michael stiffened. "What happened to Paschar was-"

"Avoidable!" Gabriel snapped. "Just because they were nervous? They had never even met our Parent, Michael!"

"I am aware. Doubt is not-"

"Isn't what? They are allowed to want to see our Parent! They probably just wanted you to open the doors to prove They were in there!"

For some reason, this infuriated Michael more than it should have.

"Paschar had no right!" They thundered, stepping closer to Gabriel.

"You've got no right to keep secrets," Gabriel shot back, and then when Michael was suddenly even closer began to think that they might have made a mistake in antagonizing the archangel.

However, Gabriel had never been one to just drop a subject.

"Why'd you banish them?" They demanded, swallowing down their nervousness even though Michael _must_ have known that Gabriel was walking the edge between that and terror. "Unless they were on to something."

"Be quiet," Michael growled.

"No, Michael, I want answers!" Gabriel didn't know where they had found the courage to shout. "Why banish Paschar unless you didn't want them to spread that worry? You could have easily proved that they were wrong!"

Michael's hand shot out and seized Gabriel by the shoulder, pinning them against the wall. Fury was burning in their eyes, but they said nothing.

Gabriel was silent for a moment, struggling to overcome the feeling that they should just shut up because their life was on the line here, everything they were as an angel could be gone in an instant if Michael wished it, but they remembered Hermes and thought that there were worse fates.

"Where are They?" Gabriel whispered. "Michael, please tell me They're still in that room and you just overreacted."

Michael moved so suddenly that Gabriel didn't realize they had been tossed until they hit the ground again, skidding and wings flaring to slow them down. They looked up to see that Michael hadn't moved, aside from turning slightly so that Gabriel was given a profile view.

"Do not ask me that," Michael said, in a voice so quiet that it was practically a whisper.

Gabriel stared, and then made another bad decision. "Where are They?"

"I don't know!"

The shout echoed between them, died, and gave way to utter silence.

Gabriel didn't know how long they sat there, but they remembered utter shock and the thought that no, they hadn't wanted this, they hadn't _wanted_ to be right, hoped to anyone that was listening that they were wrong, but no one was listening.

"I don't know," Michael repeated eventually - a thousand years could have passed between then and the first time they said it. They turned away, wings pulled close to their body as if hiding from Gabriel. "All I know is what They told me the last time we spoke."

Gabriel was aware that they were still sitting on the floor, but they couldn't muster the energy to stand. Michael kept talking.

"I'm just trying to keep things going, Gabriel," They said, sounding like they were pleading with Gabriel to understand. "It was _necessary -_ I did what I had to."

"What you had to?" Replacing the numb shock was a sort of slow-burning anger - how could Michael have kept this a secret for so long? "What you - how ong has this been going on?"

Michael shrugged - actually shrugged, a gesture of helplessness Gabriel never thought they would see them make. "I don't remember. A long time."

A long time.

They could have been gone for _centuries._

Gabriel stood slowly, something deep and heavy and sad sinking into them.

"Gabriel-"

"No." They were aware their voice was shaking. "I - you kept this a _secret?"_

"I-"

Gabriel was done with excuses.

They took off blindly, stumbling a landing somewhere else in Heaven and barely registering the plants around them, but definitely noticing the startled angel behind them.

"Gabriel?"

Gabriel spun around so quickly that Joshua stepped back to avoid their wings. "Joshua," They said in reply, thought scattered but managing to form a cohesive idea. "I - you've - Parent's spoken to you, right?"

Joshua looked confused. "Of course."

"Recently?"

Joshua's expression became regretful, and Gabriel's hopes plummeted.

"No," Joshua said, as a tiny part of Gabriel had been hoping he wouldn't. "Not in a long time, I'm afraid."

A long time.

Gabriel was struck with the mad desire to laugh, and they turned away from Joshua, bowing their head and trying to regain control of themselves.

This was ridiculous. They weren't human [but it was their _Parent,_ a voice inside Gabriel said, and they told that voice to shut up].

"Gabriel?" Joshua asked again. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." If there was one thing Gabriel had learned from Hermes, it was how to lie through their teeth.

"Weren't you told to deliver Revelation to someone?"

Gabriel breathed out slowly. "Yes," They said, straightening. "I will - I had better go do that." Maybe being on Earth would help them figure out what to do.

And from what Michael had said, it was still their Father's plan.

"I wish you luck, then," Joshua said calmly, and suddenly Gabriel knew that they would need it.

They nodded, turning slightly to face Joshua again. The word that passed between them doesn't have an exact translation in English - or really, in any other language humans have so far invented - but loosely translated, the best equivalent would be the idea of a farewell, and the hope that things will get better.

Joshua looked confused, but Gabriel gave them no time to elaborate before they left, sweeping down to Earth and the cave in which the last true Prophet currently resided.

* * *

_Muhammad._

_I bring a message to you, from my Father who you will know as Allah._

* * *

Gabriel didn't know what to do.

It was very rarely that they experienced indecision like this, but this time it was compounded by the fact that there was no one to ask for directions, for assistance, no one to _tell_ them what to do.

It was odd, and yet freeing, and Gabriel had not previously noticed how much the orders and structure of Heaven had contained them until now, when they were determined to leave it behind.

_Leave it behind._

Gabriel exhaled slowly, and if they were human they might have been trembling with nerves, but the thought held on.

And why not? Gabriel thought, slightly desperately. Their Parent was gone, Michael didn't even know what they were doing, and none of the other angels knew - blind in their ignorance and following orders without question, and those who did question would no doubt be thrown down like Paschar.

Was that the legacy Gabriel wanted to tie themselves to?

Gabriel had always known the answer.

They just hadn't realized it.

Gabriel looked around them, seeing the bustle of human life stretching around for miles, and wondered where they would be able to stay without Michael finding them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kudos are great, guys, but seriously - if you liked this, please comment! It means a lot to me when I get written feedback instead of just stats on how many people have read this.


	6. Freedom and Vessels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly just going to be Gabriel messing around on Earth, with vessels and stuff. The first bit, around 644 AD, takes place roughly thirty years after they delivered Revelation to Muhammad, so at this point Islam has been kicked off and is on its way [if not already there] to being in full swing.
> 
> I figure Gabriel took at least a few vessels before the one we see in the four episodes they gave them in Supernatural, so I did my best to include all of them, even if it's just a vague reference.
> 
> I'm also going to include the start of them being Loki. The Viking age is agreed to have started at roughly 750 AD, so I assume Loki was around by then, and the height of the Viking Age was around 1100 AD - which leaves about 400 years for Loki/Gabriel to get up to all the crazy shit that happens in Norse tales.
> 
> Seriously. Look some up if you don't think that the description I just gave you is accurate.
> 
> Or, you know, just wait until the next chapter.
> 
> As for the names, 'Loptr' is considered the etymological root of 'Loki', so I'm pretending that he changed it of his own accord shortly before Gabriel took him as a vessel. Similarly, Wotan is the original pronunciation of Odin. Basically, any names that we know in mythology are probably not the names that were originally spoken/written down.

* * *

_644 AD [Tang Dynasty]  
_

_A small town near Guilin, China  
_

"Did you hear?"

"There's supposed to be a dragon in those hills."

"There can't be."

"We must be blessed!"

Sure, Gabriel thought dryly, from their place in a corner of the small building, where the people of the village would gather and talk at all hours. Blessed. That's exactly what you are, especially now that I'm here.

No one noticed them, which was exactly what Gabriel intended - they were using the smallest possible amount of Grace to give themselves a measure of privacy. Their vessel [the second one they'd taken after leaving Heaven, since the first - a merchant who had lived in the region all his life - had, well, burned out, for lack of a better word] was female, after all, and Gabriel had seen the kind of attention women could attract.

Not that it was their fault, or that Gabriel couldn't deal with it, but it was easier to not have to at all.

In all honesty, though, the thought of seeing a dragon intrigued Gabriel.

Because with the gods had come the creatures, and whether or not their Parent intended them to be there, Gabriel wanted to know more.

And now they really could, if they wanted to, and Gabriel certainly did.

* * *

"Hey!" The men who were loading the cart paused and almost collectively turned to Gabriel, who was standing with their arms crossed near said cart, and was also the one who had shouted.

"What is it?" One of the men asked. "Have we forgotten something?"

"No," Gabriel replied, inwardly rolling their eyes. "I'm coming with you."

That made several of them stare.

"With us?" One asked incredulously.

"You're going to see if the dragon will help with the drought, aren't you?" Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "I'm coming, too."

One of them scoffed, and a man who had to be his twin smacked him over the head. "Are you sure?" The second one asked politely while the first rubbed his head mutinously.

"Would I be asking if I were not?"

The third man - the one in the front of the cart - laughed. "A point well made." He said, grinning. "If you're as sharp as you seem, I think it would be better luck to have you along."

* * *

Gabriel was almost completely sure that, had they not been there, the expedition would have been an utter failure.

It was only thanks to their angelic senses that the group managed to find the hill the dragon made its home on in the first place.

"Are we sure it's this one?" The lead man, Te Zixin, peered at the map that they had somehow procured along the way.

"Of course," said Yi Aiguo, sounding insulted - it was he who had found/stolen/bought the map in the first place and shown it to the rest of the group. "The instructions were very clear."

The third member - Aiguo's twin brother, who was named Gen - turned towards Gabriel. "What do you think?"

"I think whoever gave Yi that map must have been someone up to no good," Gabriel replied, using a respectful prefix before Aiguo's last name - even if they thought the three men were a little incapable, they could certainly respect the bravery it took to go ask a dragon for help.

Zixin laughed at that, rolling the map up carefully. "Ah, but it has led us this far!"

"So has Xia," Gen muttered. Gabriel had given them their vessel's name - Xia Meili, or in English style Meili Xia, since the Chinese had the tradition of putting the last name before the first.

"I think it is easy enough to guess from here," Aiguo said thoughtfully. "Dragons live on top of mountains, after all, and we are very nearly at the bottom of these ones."

"And how are we supposed to get to the top?" Zixin asked. "Fly?"

Gabriel had to suppress a grin at that comment, while Gen frowned at the three of them. "You are so persistent that we will not succeed," He said, as if despairing that he hadn't picked better travel companions.

"I think we will," Gabriel put in, smirking, "If only because I'm here."

Aiguo laughed, throwing an arm around them. "Oh, certainly because of you, Xia - everyone knows a woman is good luck!"

More laughter, and even Gabriel smiled at that. "Pairs are good luck," They corrected, taking Aiguo's wrist and moving their arm off them. "Which is good for you, otherwise you would have numbered three."

"Enough," Zixin interrupted good-naturedly - they were smiling as well. "We should rest for tonight - it's growing late, and the problem will still be there in the morning. Maybe dreams will offer us a solution."

* * *

Gabriel didn't need sleep, so they were the only one awake when the dragon came.

The giant red creature swooped low over the valley at the bottom of the mountain, one eye staring down for the briefest moment before it passed onwards. Gabriel also saw, as they leaped to their feet, a pearl tucked in the crook of their chin, and in the brief glimpse they got it seemed to shimmer with a layer of fire.

It was only too easy for Gabriel to follow, and their wings spread without them thinking and took them after the dragon.

Gabriel dropped out of the sky a few moments later.

How could they have been so stupid?

They _couldn't_ fly, not now, not if they wanted to remain in hiding and on Earth. If Michael found them, they would be _furious._

Gabriel tucked their wings in tightly, almost painfully so, and their senses were so withdrawn that they heard the dragon through the dense thicket of trees before they saw it.

The dragon was long and red, with a mane of something that could possibly be called hair around their neck like a lion. The pearl still looked like it was on fire, shining with a white heat.

The dragon's eyes were large and slit-pupiled, and they were also fixed on Gabriel.

Gabriel, seeing no sense in pretending that they weren't there, stepped closer and into the clearing in which the dragon had curled itself, and the creature's eyes widened imperceptibly.

"Ah," It purred, and if it were human Gabriel would have called the voice womanly. "So I saw correctly after all."

"I am not surprised you noticed me," Gabriel replied, brushing their vessel's long hair out of the way.

The dragon's neck arched and it came closer, front legs barely moving as it leaned towards Gabriel, who did not move.

"Coming all this way for me?" The dragon's whiskers twitched. "I feel I should be flattered. I have never seen anything quite as...old...as you."

Gabriel smiled at the dragon. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's rude to tell a woman she looks old?"

The dragon made a growling noise in the back of their throat that Gabriel took a moment to recognize as laughter. "Oh, but you're not a woman, I don't think," It answered, retreating a short distance to regard Gabriel closely with one eye. "Nothing that old recognizes that sort of thing."

"Do you?" Gabriel asked, stepping closer and taking a seat on a protruding tree root. The long skirts her vessel wore trailed in the dirt, but they paid it no heed.

"If I am in the mood," The dragon replied, shifting on the ground - most likely to make themselves more comfortable. "Why _have_ you come all this way?"

"If you will believe it, I have never seen a dragon before." Gabriel was still smiling. "When the opportunity arose to seek one out, who was I to ignore it?"

The dragon laughed again. "And why have your companions come?"

"To see if they can ask a dragon for help."

"Indeed?" That caught their attention. "And what would they need help with?"

"Their village has been quite dry of late, and they believe that if they can convince you, you will help." Gabriel allowed the smile to curve into a smirk. "Honestly, I thought little of their chances of success."

"Coming with them to serve your own needs?" The dragon rumbled. "How cunning of you."

"Thank you." Gabriel replied.

"And what now, then? Now you have done what you came to do?"

"I don't know," Gabriel admitted, not knowing whether the dragon would be able to sense a lie and not wanting to risk it. They did like this vessel, after all. "I'm a little new to deciding what I want to do for myself."

The dragon did not immediately reply, and their gaze was considering. "What are you?" They eventually said. "You are no goddess. I have seen nothing of your like before."

"That much is correct." Gabriel said slyly, smile returning in full force, and the dragon's eyes narrowed, but not in anger.

"Are you a spirit, perhaps?"

"Oh, much more than that." It was becoming obvious that the dragon enjoyed the teasing talk.

"More than a goddess?"

"For sure."

"Then you must be lying." The dragon decided, tail swishing back and forth, "For I have heard of nothing greater than the gods."

"Am I?" Gabriel put their hand over where their vessel's heart was in mock offense.

"Well, then, prove it!"

Gabriel's smile fell.

"That I cannot do," They replied slowly, and the dragon edged closer.

"And why not?" There was a rumble in their voice that said they thought they were being lied to.

"I cannot use my power." Gabriel shook their head. "It would draw too much attention."

The dragon's gaze sharpened in interest. "There are more of you? Whose attention you do not wish to draw, perhaps?"

"Exactly."

"What have you done, then, to warrant such precautions?"

"Nothing." Gabriel replied, aware of the bitter tone that had crept into their voice. "Save come down here on orders, and refuse to return."

"Oh," The dragon rumbled, creeping around the clearing and almost fully unwinding themselves. Their true length was longer than Gabriel had expected. "An argument? You grew angry with one of your fellows?"

"Something like that." Gabriel's smile was fixed, and they stood up smoothly, wiping dirt from their clothing. "It is nearly dawn. My companions will wonder if I am not there when they wake."

"They do not know what you truly are?"

For a moment, the smile was genuine. "Now, where would the fun be in that?"

* * *

On the way back to their campsite at the base of the mountain, it began to rain.

* * *

_730 AD [or sometime around then at least]_

_Kaupang, Norway  
_

Gabriel was in deep shit.

It had just been _one_ demon, sure, but that _one_ demon had attracted others, and Gabriel _knew_ that someone must have noticed the power it took to get rid of them all.

Damn their fucking angelic status and the instinctive hatred of demons that went with it!

Gabriel needed to find somewhere to hide, but not like they had done previously - this needed to be _deep_ cover.

They'd have to find a new vessel.

They had taken several vessels in the time since the dragon - Meili had not lasted forever, and Gabriel had been forced to find new ones where they could. Ciarán, Ramza, Tausiq - none of them had lasted for as long as Gabriel would have liked. The cherubs were letting the vessel bloodlines go lax, which meant fewer vessels, and even fewer that could contain an archangel.

Gabriel, however, was no longer in a position to whip them back into shape, and had to make do with what they could find.

To throw Michael or anyone else who may be looking off their tail, Gabriel retreated to Europe, a region they had rarely frequented before - and, knowing Michael would hate the colder regions, went as far north as they could stand.

It was there that they ran into the perfect choice.

The problem was, he was a pagan.

Or at least, he was as far as Gabriel could tell.

Gabriel continued staring at the man nursing his drink before something clicked. This wasn't a problem at all - it was _perfect._ What angel would expect Gabriel, Messenger of God, to be possessing a pagan god, of all people? And the more pagans they were around, the less chance any of their siblings would find them.

But would the man say yes?

Reaching out, Gabriel lightly touched his mind and almost physically jerked back at what the found.

Pain, regret, sorrow - or was it grief? Or both, perhaps - there was barely a part of him that wasn't touched by the swirling morass of emotion. No wonder the man was drinking.

Oh yes, Gabriel thought. He'd do very nicely.

* * *

Gabriel ditched their current vessel, apologizing mentally to Tausiq, and went after the man as soon as he left the bar.

He hadn't gone far, apparently desiring solitude over the noise of the tavern, and Gabriel recalled the name they had dredged from his mind.

Loptr, although the man had apparently taken to calling himself by another name, after whatever tragedy caused him to want to drown his sorrows.

They whispered the name, curling close but not close enough to harm him, and the man jerked in surprise.

"What now?" He shouted. "Can't I be left alone? What have I done?"

_Nothing._

Loptr, or Loki, snorted. "Well, if you think that - whatever you are - then you have obviously not spoken to my family."

_I'd rather talk to you._

"And why is that?" Loki snapped. "To torment me?"

 _No._ Gabriel might have used a little Grace to soothe him, but hey, they were going to posses the guy. What was the harm in making sure what amounted to his last moments were nice?

Loki almost visibly slumped. "Why, then?" He asked, staring up at nothing in particular and missing Gabriel completely, all the fight gone.

_I know that you wish for an end._

"Are you a spirit, then?"

_No._

"Then what?"

_That does not matter. I am offering what you seek._

Strangely enough, even while near suicidal that still made the man wary. "Why would you do that?"

_You would not be the only one to benefit._

"Of course." Loki slumped again, this time leaning backwards against the tree behind him, lying almost fully on the ground. "Well, then? What is your offer?"

Gabriel showed him.

Loki was silent. Then-

"Why not just do so?"

_I need permission._

"And if you didn't?"

Gabriel hesitated for the briefest second. _I would still ask._ At least, they'd like to think they would.

Loki didn't immediately answer, but they suddenly looked every bit as tired as Gabriel could sense that they felt.

Golden eyes glanced up in a futile effort to see who he was talking to.

"Fine," Loki said, without moving or making an effort to sit up. "Go ahead. Yes. Whatever you need me to say."

Their thoughts stirred with unspoken words; _It doesn't matter no one would care it won't kill me anyways_

Well, angelic possession wouldn't - not immediately.

At first Loki's magic crackled against their Grace, fruitlessly trying to fight against what it saw as an invader - and Gabriel supposed that they were, really.

Green magic crackled around their new vessel's fingertips, but Gabriel was far more powerful than Loki could have ever hoped to be and so they subdued it, the vessel bending to their will as Gabriel shoved themselves inside the cracks and filled every little spot of Loki, the god curled inside the now-shared mind.

Gabriel exhaled slowly, getting used to the new vessel - he was a bit taller than the last one - and standing up, using the tree to balance themselves.

Golden eyes blinked, momentarily turning a blazing blue-white, and then stared at their surroundings with a new fascination.

Gabriel smiled.

Michael would have quite a time trying to find them like this.

* * *

_735 AD_

_Somewhere in the Norwegian wilderness_

Gabriel had decided to continue spending time in Norway, just to be safe [in case anyone _was_ still out looking for them] when they ran across a pack of vucari.

And, well, they couldn't just do _nothing_ about it.

Loki's magic was still fairly unfamiliar to Gabriel, but they were pretty sure they could have managed it.

At least, until the one-man Viking hunting party hurled himself over where Gabriel was crouched and into the clearing with a yell that would have frightened a bear.

Gabriel froze in surprise for half a second before shooting to their feet, the sword they obtained [don't look like that, it was through honest methods! Sort of] already in their hand.

Was this guy _crazy?_

One of the vucari noticed Gabriel and hurled itself at them, and Gabriel dodged, coming up with a slice that made the wolf creature roll away, whimpering, and then there wasn't any time to think about the other man's probable insanity because Gabriel was in the thick of the fight right alongside him.

One vucari snapped and lunged for Gabriel's arm, but an axe met it halfway and knocked it off-course, the man following the wolf down and making short work of it. Gabriel noticed one of the three left creeping up on the two of them and knocked one back as it lunged for the man, their sword sliding neatly between its ribs.

A snap of their fingers and the green magic that still curled around Gabriel's Grace reared up, flinging one wolf back and Gabriel turned to deal with the other one only to find the other man already standing there and the last of the vucari dead.

"A magician," the man noted, swinging his axe up to rest on his shoulder. He spoke in the thick accent not unusual to the region, although it was less of an accent than how the words were intended to be pronounced. There was also a hint of foreign power around them that Gabriel hadn't noticed before, and maybe only was now because the man had stopped trying to hide it.

A pagan, Gabriel realized, and of about the same caliber as their own vessel.

"Surprised?" Gabriel asked. "People always are, for some reason."

"Well, you don't look it." The man pointed out, as if it should be obvious.

"And what would that look be?" Gabriel retorted.

The man snorted. "Whatever it is, it's not this." He waved an all-encompassing hand at Gabriel's vessel. "Thanks for the save, though."

"I could say the same to you. I do like having both arms."

The man threw back his head an laughed at that. "Doesn't everybody?" He said when he calmed down. "You're capable with that sword, I'll give you that."

"I have to be, to deal with these." Gabriel nudged one of the dead wolves. "Do you usually do this sort of thing on your own?"

"I don't need anyone else," The man declared. "What sort of man would I be if I couldn't take care of a couple vucari on my own? Besides, so were you, unless the rest of your party's hidden elsewhere."

"True." Gabriel nodded. "You certainly live up to your words, unlike some other people I've run into."

The man spat. "Weak bastards who let their mouth run ahead of their talents. I'd like to see them face down this pack."

"These wolves aren't much of a challenge now, though, are they?"

The man grinned again, and thrust his hand out at Gabriel. "Wotan," They introduced themselves.

Gabriel sheathed their sword, and seeing no harm in it, took his hand. "Loki."

* * *

_749 AD_

_Asgard_

Gabriel's sword blocked the axe easily, and Wotan frowned.

"Magic," he grunted, "Is cheating."

"You're the one who declared that this was no-holds-barred," Gabriel replied cheerfully, holding the parry position effortlessly. They were much stronger than Wotan, after all, even if he didn't know it.

"It's just a spar."

"Still no-holds-barred."

"Alright, that's how you want to be?" Wotan yanked back his axe so that suddenly Gabriel was leaning on nothing. They stumbled forward, and Wotan brought his axe back down.

It wouldn't have killed Gabriel, and Wotan wasn't aiming to kill anyway, but either way the illusion suddenly vanished as part of the axe went through it.

The real Gabriel, who was standing behind Wotan, used one foot to sweep the god's legs out from under him. Wotan went crashing down, smart enough to toss his axe out of the way so he didn't land on it while still keeping it within reach.

He flipped over, already reaching for the huge double-bladed weapon, but Gabriel's sword was at his throat.

"I win," Gabriel declared.

"Oh, really?" Wotan grabbed for Gabriel's leg and yanked; Gabriel, who wasn't expecting it, went down just as hard as Wotan had only moments previously.

"Shit!" The sword was pushed out of the way and Gabriel winced in reflex - it didn't actually hurt - as Wotan's foot shoved itself into Gabriel's chest, directly below their vessel's breastbone. "Alright, enough."

"Do you yield?" Wotan grinned down at Gabriel.

Gabriel grinned back. "You should know the answer to that." Their hand stabbed into the back of Wotan's knee and the leg holding Gabriel down crumpled. They rolled out of the way and back to their feet as Wotan dropped again, with a sharp exhalation of breath.

"Do you give up?"

Wotan laughed. "I've learned not to underestimate you."

"And here I thought we'd passed that point." Gabriel offered a hand to Wotan, to help him up, and Wotan took it, clasping Gabriel around the forearm.

Like an ally.

Or a friend, even.

It was the penultimate sign of brotherhood, in Wotan's mind, so why was he acknowledging Gabriel as _that?_

"Ah, you know me." Wotan grinned, oblivious to the fact that Gabriel was still processing what he was doing.

Gabriel made a decision.

They clasped Wotan's arm back, and grinned even wider.

"I know you must have taken one too many hits to the head," They replied, "Because nothing seems to stick."

"Ha! How rude of you!"

"So are you."

"You've got me there, Loki."

"Of course I do, I'm always right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaay a happy ending!
> 
> [Spoiler alert: It's not gonna last]
> 
> Okay, so in Norse mythology, Loki was a straight-up frost giant. A tiny one, I guess. I'm assuming he was using magic to look human and Gabriel just continued that. Loki later became blood-brothers with Odin/Wotan, which was a literal mixing of their blood, and then ended up as one of the Aesir.
> 
> So Loki is not Thor's brother but more like his step-uncle or something.
> 
> ANYWAY I'm not going to go too in-depth about that because I don't want to accidentally fuck up anyone's beliefs and I have no idea how one would go about becoming blood-siblings with someone. Is there a ritual? I don't know. In any case, the next chapter will take place after that has happened. I thought I should probably clear that up for you guys.
> 
> Comment, please!


	7. Gambles and Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I switched pronouns for Gabriel in this chapter.
> 
> Let me explain my reasoning.
> 
> Before, Gabriel was very solidly an angel. They never even entertained the idea of being anything else. So I used 'they' for Gabriel, because angels are genderless and most of the time gender [a human social construct but more on that later] hadn't even been invented yet.
> 
> Then humans and stuff, blah blah, and now Gabriel's taken Loki as a vessel.
> 
> They just wanted a vessel at first, but then Wotan entered the picture. He thinks Loki's a he. He's bros with Loki/Gabriel to the biggest possible extent that it is to be bros in the Norse pantheon, going so far as to adopt him as a brother. In the literal sense. Which I explained in the last chapter.
> 
> ANYWAY.
> 
> Gabriel is letting himself get involved in being Loki. You know method acting? Where you adopt all traits of the character? For however long you're method acting, you're not acting out that character, you are that character.
> 
> That's what's going on.
> 
> Gabriel is getting really involved in his vessel's role. Now, for all intents and purposes, he IS Loki. Aaaaaand Loki is a he. I also switch names, if you notice, because yes I'm not being subtle at all with this point.
> 
> I'm just trying to really get across his character development okay? Also he's kind of meaner now, since, y'know, pagans. Not exactly the nicest people/creatures/beings/WHATEVER. Also, I figure Gabriel ended up as Loki and sort of went 'You know what? Screw it. Michael's not here. I'm going to do whatever the fuck I want.'
> 
> Because in Norse Mythology, Loki is basically the god of fucking shit up, making the Aesir and everyone else angry, and then figuring out a solution to the problem.
> 
> Just so you know, a lot of this chapter is either taken straight from Norse Mythology, or borrows heavily and/or alludes to it.

_783 AD_

_Asgard [Realm of the Æsir]  
_

Gabriel had settled fully into their - well, his, now - role as Loki.

And he liked it, honestly. He'd even started thinking of himself as male [well, mostly male] - the lines that separated Loki and Gabriel only grew more blurred as time went on.

Gabriel, however, refused to think of that as a bad thing. Wotan was an actual _friend -_ more than that, he was a _brother_ \- one who wouldn't report him to Michael or go on about orders all the time.

He had initially been cautious about accepting the offer of blood-brotherhood, but if there was one thing Wotan was, it was stubborn [though thankfully he was also smart enough that this didn't end in chaos] and he refused to accept Loki's refusal.

Even if it resulted in things only most of the time not ending in chaos.

But if they did, could you blame Loki for giving Wotan a little shove?

His pagan vessel did need a well to draw its power from, after all, and using that power drew less attention than his Grace.

Chaos was Loki's forte, and Gabriel might as well carry on that legacy. He didn't plan on leaving the vessel anytime soon, in any case, and it was more fun than Gabriel had anticipated to mess with people.

Especially if said people were Asgardians.

Loki had never met a species as collectively less able to take a joke, but that just made it more interesting. He could do whatever he wanted, now that he was practically assured that Heaven would never find him.

* * *

"Really, Loki?"

"I don't know what you're so upset about," Loki said, a lazy grin on his face.

"Sif is upset," Wotan retorted. "And because she is upset, _Thor_ is upset. I cannot turn away my son, Loki."

"I didn't say anything about turning him away." Loki crossed his arms, watching Wotan huff and turn back to pacing, which is what he had been doing when Loki walked into the hall. "It wasn't that bad."

"You cut off her hair."

"Not _that_ much of it. What's so special about hair? It'll grow back."

Wotan sighed. "Thor is insisting that you have stained her honor by sneaking up on her and then taking off."

"What was I supposed to do? Wait for one of them to try and behead me?" Loki snorted. "No, thank you."

"You did not need to do anything in the first place."

"Doing nothing?" Loki grinned. "Now, does that really sound like me, Wotan?"

"What you are about to sound like is someone going to fix this problem," Wotan replied, but a grin flickered over his face.

"Really, Wotan?" Loki asked, exasperated. "Why me?"

"You created this problem, so you're going to fix it."

Loki considered that. "Fair point," He sighed. "You know Sif's not going to let me close enough to grow it out for her, right?"

Wotan's eyes glinted. "Then I suggest you find an alternate method."

* * *

_Níðavellir [Realm of the Dwarves]  
_

Dwarves, in all honesty, were completely new to 'Loki'.

They were quite adept at making things out of metal, though.

"That's not it," Loki said, staring to get exasperated. "I just want - look, a friend of mine lost her hair, and you can make a substitute, can't you?" If Sif didn't at least appreciate the trouble he had to go through to do this then Loki was making Wotan take care of it.

"Of course I can!" And now the dwarf was insulted. Loki suppressed a smile - dwarves were easier to trick than he thought.

"So, will you?"

The dwarf seemed to be frowning fiercely behind their beard, although it was difficult to tell because of said beard. "Yes," They replied gruffly.

"Then we have a deal." Loki grinned.

* * *

It was two weeks or so before Loki returned to the dwarves, not expecting them to already be finished.

The dwarf shoved a neatly tied bundle of what certainly _looked_ like golden hair into his hands. "For your friend," They announced, giving the last word a lilt that suggested that they very much doubted Sif was Loki's friend - in which case, they were right. "Grows just like regular hair, and finer than her old hair, I'd wager."

Loki ran his hands over it, admitting to himself that it was more than he'd expected out of the dwarves. "It's very well done," He said, tucking it away in one of his many pockets. It paid to have a place to keep things where no one else would notice them. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it." She had better. If Sif didn't like it, then that meant Thor would do his best to make good on his promise to break every bone in Loki's body. While not deadly, it certainly wouldn't be pleasant.

"That's not all."

Loki looked back at the dwarf. "What, it does more?" How much could fake hair _do?_

"Not the hair." The dwarf beckoned Loki, turning and marching deeper into the caverns and tunnels of Níðavellir.

Loki, curious, followed. He hadn't asked the dwarves to make anything else, but things started to make more sense when he heard the dwarf mutter something about craftmanship and "of course I can make some blasted hair, maybe I'll finally get some respect if they see what I can _really_ do."

Dwarves with injured pride, it seemed, either made the worst enemies or the best gifts.

The dwarf - and Loki halfheartedly wondered what his [their?] name was; he'd never bothered to find out, just been told that they [he?] was one of Ivaldi's children - reached into a small space in the wall and withdrew a spear, shining and golden. The head was ornately carved, and the blade was almost a foot long. It was heavy, but Loki caught it effortlessly.

"For Wotan," The dwarf told him, and Loki spun the spear experimentally. "It will never fail to hit its mark."

"Huge, slightly overdone," He muttered to himself. "Unnecessarily huge blade..."

He looked back at the dwarf.

"He'll be thrilled," Loki said cheerfully, snapping and temporarily vanishing the spear to other parts - it was too unwieldy to carry back. "It's exactly his kind of weapon. What's its name?"

"Gungnir," The dwarf said, and reached into the wall cavity a second time. "This, too. For Freyr. Said he wanted a boat last time we met. It is named Skíðblaðnir."

Loki took the thick, folded-up square with a certain suspension of disbelief.

"This is a ship?"

The dwarf's smile was sharp. "Unfold it before you say things like that. Not here!" They added quickly as Loki moved to undo the obvious clasp on one side of the cube. "It won't fit."

Loki's eyes flickered around the cavern they were in, which could easily have held one of Asgard's drinking halls - maybe not the biggest, but even the smallest was huge enough to fit at least half of the Aesir.

"Give me a moment."

* * *

Loki came back to Níðavellir windswept and with a slightly damp hem, and grinning broadly.

"Alright, I believe you," He told the dwarf, "But Freyr won't until he sees this. Ha! You've certainly far outdone what I originally asked for."

The dwarf was grinning - probably - behind their beard, everything about their posture showing pride. "The sons of Ivaldi are the best among smiths," He said smugly.

"And the cleverest," Loki agreed, privately making a note to take a closer look at that ship before handing it over to Freyr. After all, if the god didn't know he was due a gift, he certainly wouldn't realize if it was a bit late.

There was an indignant sputter from the opposite side of the cavern, and Loki realized a bit late that there were two other dwarves there, working on their own projects.

"Excuse me?" One of them said indignantly. "He's the cleverest?"

"I could do better than Nabbi in my sleep," The other one stated, an edge of injured pride in their voice. Loki had to resist rolling his eyes. Getting stuck in the middle of a dwarf I'm-better-than-you contest was the last thing he wanted to happen right now. Or ever, really.

The dwarf Loki had been talking to - Nabbi - looked just as exasperated as Loki felt. "If you did, it would be because one of my brothers would fix your work for you while you slept!" He called back. "Can you blame the Aesir for knowing talent when they see it?"

"Talent?" The first dwarf spat. "It doesn't take talent to make a spear like that!"

"And what about the boat, Brokk?" Nabbi challenged. "What do you say about that?"

"My brother could do better than that boat thrice over!" The second dwarf shot back. Brokk smacked them roughly.

"I can defend myself, Eitri!" He snapped.

"Apparently not," Nabbi taunted, making Brokk scowl. Loki had been watching the argument progress, and couldn't resist a small smile twitching at his lips.

Sometimes it was very entertaining, being the god of chaos.

"I can prove it," Brokk declared. "Three creations of my own, each better than any _Nabbi_ can provide you with."

Loki pretended to consider it. "Well," He said slowly, "That ship _was_ quite impressive..."

Nabbi puffed up in bride, while Brokk scowled even more fiercely.

"Even in front of the whole court of Asgard, my creations will be declared the best of all dwarves!"

There was a lengthy pause, and then Loki _laughed._

"In front of the whole court? You must be very confident in yourself, if you're willing to wager that!"

"It's the truth." Brokk eyed Loki warily. "A wager, you say?"

"Why not?" Loki let himself grin fully, aware that his smile was sharp and dangerous-looking. "You say you can make something better, I say you can't."

The insult - or at least, sting to his honor - was enough to make both Brokk and Eitri swell in anger. "Done," Brokk said. Nabbi was all but forgotten, watching from where he still stood near his own forge.

"What do you wager, then?" Loki asked.

Brokk hesitated for only a moment to confer with Eitri. "Winner takes the loser's head."

Well, wasn't it good that Loki would win, then? Brokk shouldn't have said the _whole_ court. "Done."

Brokk had obviously not expected him to accept so easily. "You would risk it?"

Loki smiled. " _If_ you win...and you can reach it...it's yours."

* * *

_An unspecified but pretty long [for humans] amount of time later..._

_Asgard, Wotan's court._

"I hope you know what you're doing," Wotan hissed to Loki. He hadn't been happy when Loki had related the wager and its stakes, and not even Gungnir had mollified him.

"Trust me, Wotan."

"You? Never." Huginn and Muninn, who were perched on either arm of Wotan's chair, shifted and ruffled their feathers at Loki's bark of laughter.

"You're getting smarter."

"And yet, I still listen to you."

"Oh, everyone knows I give the best advice." Loki grinned at Wotan, even as the doors opened to admit Brokk and Eitri. "Especially you, fóstbróðir."

Wotan had no time to reply before the dwarves were approaching the end of the hall and he changed from Wotan into the All-Father.

Brokk looked horrible.

Probably because he'd been stung numerous times by the fly that Loki had created to stop the two of them from doing as well as they might have on their three objects, but hey, no need to share that with all of the gathered Aesir.

Or Brokk, for that matter, even if he probably suspected that Loki had had something to do with the insect.

The three items were each covered by cloth and held carefully, and Loki watched disinterestedly as the first two objects were revealed.

A golden boar hide? Boring, though Freyja seemed inordinately pleased to be given it.

A ring that creates eight identical versions of itself every ninth night? An interesting piece, but not that great. It definitely didn't live up to a spear of a boat that could be folded up and placed into a pocket.

Eitri paused in unveiling the last one, turning to the redheaded god who stood on the other side of Wotan's throne [and slightly lower than where Loki stood, on the right]. "This last one," He announced, since Brokk wasn't up to announcing anything, "Is a present for Thor."

Thor straightened, a small smile creeping over his face, and Loki tried to soundlessly convey to anyone who might be looking at him how deeply unimpressed he was with the goings-on. He'd gotten quite good at that, staying on Asgard for so long.

Eitri yanked the cover off the third gift, revealing a warhammer with a...kind of short handle.

"Its name is Mjolnir," He said as Thor picked it up, and Loki detected an undercurrent of worry. The hammer wasn't finished - his fly must have done some good after all. "It will never fail to hit its mark."

"Done that already," Loki muttered to Wotan. "Didn't they give your spear the same ability?" He was grinning, though - it was a sure thing that he'd win now.

Thor, however, was also grinning as he hefted the hammer. His head turned, and with a toss that almost blurred the hammer it left his hand and smashed through a hopefully unnecessary beam near the other end of the hall, gaining an appreciative cheer or two from the assembled gods.

"Hold out your hand and will it back to you," Eitri told Thor, and when the hammer zoomed back into Thor's hand he grinned even more broadly.

Lokil's smile fell.

He was so fucked. Damn Thor and his love of weapons.

"Well, then?" Eitri looked like he knew it, too, staring smugly at Loki. "What say you?"

"Truly, these are the best works of craftmanship I have seen!" Thor said before either Wotan or Loki could reply, the latter of whom probably wouldn't have anyway because he was desperately thinking of a way out of loosing his head. Damnit, he _liked_ the Norse Pantheon, and having to leave now would suck. Not to mention having to find a new vessel.

Wotan didn't look at all disturbed, but he had on his All-Father mask - and nothing disturbed a king.

Fuck this, Loki decided, and made to shift away from the throne when Wotan's hand fastened around his arm.

Loki glanced back at the god.

"Honor your agreement," Wotan said quietly, "It does you dishonor to run."

Well, Æsir might have been all about honor, but Loki was no Æsir, and he was about to leave anyway when he noticed the eyes of basically everyone in the hall on him.

Huffing imperceptibly, Loki shook of Wotan's hand and crossed his arms, fingers tapping and mind whirling. _Surely_ he'd left a loophole in the wording somewhere.

"Then I have won the wager," Eitri announced. "I am sure, Loki, that you remember what we bet?"

Loki suddenly realized that he did, in fact, have a loophole.

"Of course," He replied carefully, letting his arms fall. "But I wouldn't be too hasty if I were you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eitri looked angry, and Thor looked irritated - possibly he'd looked forward to Loki getting a 'proper' comeuppance for what he'd done to Sif - but Wotan looked unperturbed as ever.

"Well, I believe the wager was a head." Loki said calmly. "No mention was made of laying claim to necks."

It took a moment for Eitri to understand his meaning, and when he did he turned almost purple in rage.

"Then," He growled, "I'll think of something other than cutting it off."

* * *

_Several years later..._

_Midgard [Earth]  
_

"Loki!"

Loki turned around.

"At least someone's still glad to see me," He joked, ignoring the pull of the scars that now decorated his lips. The dwarves used some pretty heavy-duty stuff for thread, which was why it had taken Loki so long to figure out how to cut it - and why he couldn't just magic away the marks they left.

Wotan looked far more relieved than he might have allowed himself to look, had he been in anyone's company.

"I had thought I might not see you again in good health," He said, striding closer. "I am glad I was wrong."

Loki grinned. "Eitri's not that inventive - he certainly wasn't the reason it took me so long to figure out a way around it."

"Eitri will be upset."

"Ah, let him come take revenge if he dares." Loki spread his arms. "I'll be waiting. I hope I didn't miss anything important while I was gone." He made it sound like less of a question than it really was.

"Nothing like that." There was a rustle in the bushes, and a wolf slid out of them, padding towards Wotan and twining around his legs. Loki grinned down at them. "Hey, Freki. Where's your brother?"

Freki didn't answer, but then again he was just a wolf. Wotan laughed.

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Did you expect me to?"

"Not really. But a word of advice - at least try not to get into trouble like this again."

Loki put his hand over his heart as if deeply offended. "Wotan, you would me. Since when do I do things like that on purpose?"

"At least try, Loki."

"No promises."

* * *

_800 AD_

_Midgard_

"A new century!"

Hermes grinned, clashing his cup against Loki's. "A new century," He agreed. "And here we are instead of with Dionysus."

Loki shook his head, pausing to take a long drink form his cup. "I told you, I'm not going to another one of his parties, not after what happened last time."

"I don't even remember what happened last time."

"Which is at least half of my point."

Hermes shook his head. "You didn't seem that adverse to it after the first time-"

"It's not because of that."

"What, it's because of your new position?" It was Hermes' turn to shake his head. "Loki. I never would have believed it."

"It's called a disguise."

"Maybe I didn't think you'd take up with them."

"It was mostly an accident, really." Loki told him.

"I'm sure it was." Hermes' voice made it clear that he didn't completely believe Loki. "You do know that you're already featured in a bunch of stories by the humans, right?"

"No more than you were by the Greeks." Loki took another sip of...whatever the hell they were drinking. Hermes said it was good and Loki just sort of went with it. Why complain? It was alcohol.

"They're pretty ridiculous."

"How bad could it be?"

"Well, for one, I took a look as soon as I found out who Loki was, and they've decided that you have at least four kids."

Loki coughed. "Excuse me?"

"I mean," Hermes was enjoying himself way too much with this. "At least I was never accused of having kids-"

"At least I was never accused of stealing a herd of cows because I was bored." Loki interrupted.

Hermes paused. "That actually happened."

"Which doesn't really help."

"Oh, like your myths are any less ridiculous." Hermes made as if to throw his glass at Loki, and then reconsidered when some of the drink splashed over the edge. He seemed to be a little bit drunk already. "Like that stupid bet they say you made."

Loki paused. There was no way..."What?"

"Some bet." Hermes gestured vaguely. "You got your mouth sewed shut when you lo - Loki?"

Loki had looked away, one hand self-consciously covering his mouth, and he heard Hermes suck in a breath.

"That really-" He swore in Greek under his breath. "Sorry."

Loki smiled tightly. "You seem to be pretty knowledgeable about my stories. Why don't you share a few?"

Hermes seemed to be eager to escape the awkward topic. "Well, there's about your supposed kids."

"Oh yes, these mystery children. Do tell," Loki said sarcastically.

"Well, for one, whoever came up with these stories has an active imagination, because some of these gods, well..."

* * *

Slepnir.

Hel, Fenris, Jormungandr.

Loki had no idea exactly _who_ had decided, at some point down the line, that he'd fathered [or in one case, mothered - and not that Gabriel had anything against women but in this case? No.] those particular beings.

Still, that didn't stop him from being curious.

"What a surprise," A chilly voice said from behind him, and Loki stiffened. It wasn't chilly in the sense that the speaker was angry, though - it was as if they simply did not know how to speak another way, and judging by the rest of the realm, he didn't think they did. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Loki turned around carefully, a half-grin on his face as had become customary. "I doubt you expect anyone here who isn't dead."

Hel was not really a surprise.

Sure, she was half dead - exactly half, Loki noticed, her helm clearly showcasing the fact since it covered only what a normal helm did, and doing nothing to cover the mummified half of her face. But it wasn't an unpleasant appearance, merely startling and maybe a little unnerving.

"True enough," She acknowledged, head tilting slightly in a nod. Her face remained blank, but Loki guessed that there wasn't much cause for expression in Helheim.

Especially when the only beings around were dead.

"So why are you here, Loki?" Hel asked. Loki shrugged.

"Well, I've heard the stories going around." He said easily. "Can you blame me for being curious?"

He could have sworn the corner of the living side of Hel's mouth twitched up in a smile. "The stories that call me your daughter?"

So she did know about them. "I only learned about this misconception recently, as a matter of fact."

Hel spread her arms, a staff held loosely in the living hand. "What do you think, then?"

"I think it's quite impressive that you're Queen of these unruly spirits." Loki had found it necessary to avoid no less than thirty of them on his way into Helheim - it was lucky he'd learned a lot about the different paths you could take between realms, especially the less-noticeable and less-traveled ones.

"They can be quite rude, can't they?" Hel smiled, truly smiled - or at least, half of her mouth curled up and the corner of her eye crinkled slightly. She turned away, skirts swirling in a manner that was somehow imperious. "Come, then. We shall talk, starting with how you found your way into my realm."

"How do you know I didn't simply kill myself?" Loki asked, part of him genuinely curious.

Hel's laugh was lighter than he would have expected. "I may not have met you previously," She replied, "But I know _of_ you, Loki Liesmith. You would not handle your own life so carelessly." She gestured again. "Come. You will explain, and then I shall tell you where to find my siblings."

"You call them your siblings?"

Cue another half-smile. "I have met them, you know. And what else would we be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeah I'm going to end it there so I can start off the next chapter where I originally planned to.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked this chapter!


	8. Tales, New Friends, and Meetings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief note: Any non-English in this chapter was translated through liberal use of Google translate, so it might not be the most accurate but it's all I've got on hand right now. I only speak English and a tiny bit of Japanese, so any language skills I possess don't really help here. Also, any Norse words are not actual norse [since google translate doesn't offer that as an option] but in Norwegian. Some of it is Norse, just not what's spoken.
> 
> Yes, I know it doesn't make sense to have one scene be translated into 'Norse' just for the heck of it, but I thought it was cool. To clarify, they're speaking Norse pretty much all the time unless otherwise specified.
> 
> Also, hulder are a type of Scandanavian nature spirit - the equivalent of nymphs, for those familiar with Greek Mythology or at least the idea behind the term. I figured it would be more appropriate to have him interacting with creatures native to the region.
> 
> Also, all Ashanti terms [aka anything that indicates their customs as a group] are mostly taken from the book Things Fall Apart, which I have because I had to read it last year for English. Unfortunately, this book concentrates mostly on the Ibo, a tribal group in what is now Nigeria, so I'll try to draw as little from that as possible, to keep as much tribal/cultural facts accurate as I possibly can.
> 
> About the bit where Gabriel tells the story: I know it's a bit sexist, but I'm trying to be faithful to the original myths, and the Norse were pretty fucking sexist. So I apologize for that.
> 
> It was also pointed out to me by someone who actually speaks Hebrew that I'd used the wrong word in the title, or at least mistranslated it, in case anyone was wondering about the change.

_825 AD  
_

_Midgard_

_Ásjá forest_

If you'd asked Loki how he'd ended up playing a board game with a nature spirit for a couple of enchanted baubles, he probably would have just grinned and left to go do exactly that.

"Hm." The hulder opposite Loki was watching him intently, her attention focused on what move he might make. Loki frowned at the board as if in deep thought, inwardly grinning.

One piece moved itself across the board. "Flyttingen." _Your move._

The hulder frowned at the board, too. "You're cheating!"

"Really?" Loki let himself grin, leaning backwards leisurely. "Maybe I'm just lucky, Kelda."

Kelda - the hulder - made a noise that was something like a snort, but reached towards the board to make her own move nonetheless.

Loki grinned even more broadly, not even waiting until her hand was fully retracted to jump his piece a few squares on the rough-hewn board. "Ek ríða." _I win._

Kelda nearly overturned the board in a fit of frustration, making Loki laugh as she steamed.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that!" He held out his hand. "I won fair and square."

The hulder scowled at him, but snatched up what she had bet on the outcome of the game and slapped them into Loki's hand.

"þokk!" _Thanks!_

And Loki was gone.

* * *

Jormungandr burst out of the water looking like he was about to go wreak havoc on the land, but the appearance was instantly dispelled when his head slid onto the ice next to Loki, tilted to that one wide green eye regarded Loki in curiosity.

"Hello," He said, mouth moving and revealing razor-sharp teeth as long as a spear, but Loki only grinned. He had nothing to fear from the world serpent.

"Hey," He replied, grinning and tossing what he'd won from the nature spirit in one hand. "I brought you something!"

Jormungandr tilted slightly closer in interest, eye moving to what Loki held. "What is it?"

Loki grinned wider, stepping closer to the water. Jormungandr shifted with him and reared up instead of resting on the ice, causing water to splash over the shoreline but Loki didn't mind.

"Want to see?" Loki set his bag on the ground and picked one of his prizes out of it. He flicked the glass orb, one fingernail hitting it and creating a clean _ping_ of sound.

Inside the orb, it seemed to react to the noise, a sort of gossamer _something_ condensing in the center of it and sending a green-tinted light over Loki's face.

Loki dropped it in the water.

It cast a much stronger light there, and Jormungandr sank partially below the surface to examine it, eye blinking shut quickly when the light got too close. Loki dropped three more in, each a different color - blue, a sort of indigo, red.

"I figured it would make being down so deep a little easier," Loki explained, crouching closer to the water and seeing Jormungandr move around them curiously. "They won't break easily, either - those hulder might be stingy but they can be damn good craftsmen - women?" He shrugged. "Whichever."

Jormungandr's grin was enough to frighten off any fish that still remained in the area at this point, and Loki thought he saw some deeper shadows slink away as well.

"I like them," Jormungandr said, sliding his head onto the ice again. "It's too dark down there sometimes."

"Líta?" _See?_ Loki grinned proudly. "I knew you'd like them."

* * *

_849 AD_

_West Africa_

_Ashanti tribe lands [In what will eventually be called Ghana]_

Someone called out, and it was only because Gabriel knew any language that existed [perks of being an angel] that he was able to understand the Asante dialect.

"Who are you, who walks on my land?"

Loki turned around.

The man standing behind him was definitely a god, proud and cocky stance conveying that just as much as the power that accompanied him.

"No one important," Loki answered in the same language, turning to face the god. "Who asks?"

"No one important," Was the immediate reply, and Loki broke into a grin.

"If it is your land, then you must be someone important."

"If you have such pale skin," The god replied, "Then surely I am senior to you who holds no titles here, and is far away from his own land."

So that was how this was going to be.

Loki felt his grin broaden. Who knew he'd run into another Trickster god? And there was no doubt that that was what the man was, with that kind of power. "Isn't it only polite, if I am the newcomer, that the host should introduce himself first?" He asked, feet shifting idly and taking him a few steps to the side.

The god mirrored the action, so that they moved around each other in a circle. "I did not invite you to these lands, and so I am no host," He retorted. "The interloper should introduce himself first."

"Interloper, am I?" Loki kept walking, and so did the other man. "I'm a god, same as you. Why speak of interloping?"

"God or no, you were not invited into these lands, so you are no guest."

"And that makes me a trespasser?"

"If a man does not invite someone into his _obi,_ then that someone has no right to be there." The other god was smiling now, engaged in the back-and-forth verbal battle. Loki felt a laugh bubble up inside him - it had been a while since he'd talked with anyone save Wotan who seemed to be his intellectual equal.

"I have to say," he remarked, "When I came down south, I didn't expect to find another Trickster."

"You still have not answered the question." The god pointed out.

Loki made an elaborate half-bow, spreading his arms for effect. "Loki."

"Well, Loki-" And the god's grin was back in full force. "You are pretty good to hold your own against old Anansi."

"You say that like it's difficult."

"Not many are nearly as clever as me," Anansi said proudly. "The only one cleverer than me is the Creator."

Loki refused to let his smile drop at the mention of a 'creator'. No doubt Anansi meant someone other than God, but...the connection was still there."Oh, really?" He asked, trying to distract himself. "Want to bet?"

"You think you're more clever than me?" Anansi shook his head, heaving a dramatic - and fake - sigh. "Ah, but I have nothing to bet, save my cloak."

"What cloak?" Anansi was wearing clothing which Loki assumed was typical to the region, which included an artfully draped length of cloth over one shoulder and around his torso, but there was no cloak in sight.

Anansi, eyes gleaming, reached over one shoulder and drew from nowhere a colorful cloak which whispered and moved in the dry wind. Looking closer, Loki realized it was made of hundreds of feathers, no two looking alike or - as far as Loki could tell - even from the same bird.

He let out an appreciative whistle. "Quite an impressive cape."

Anansi's smile was as proud as his stance had been, and he let the cloak hang off his already-covered shoulder instead of vanishing it. "I made it myself," He informed Loki, "So I could fly anywhere I liked."

"A magical cloak, then?" Loki gave it another appraising glance.

Anansi started to walk, and Loki fell into step next to him, neither with any specific direction.

"Oh, for sure," Anansi agreed. "I don't think you would have heard the story of how I got it."

"I haven't, actually. Not many stories of other gods where I come from - they can be a jealous bunch."

Anansi gave a bark of laughter. "Well, it wasn't as long ago as I used to say it was, and I was a little more confident than was polite to go around saying. Not that it wasn't deserved, but people don't go around boasting for a reason.

"Well, the Creator of course heard what I was saying, and figured that when I said I was cleverest of anyone that he was included in that too. So one day he sends me a message, saying to come see him, and bring something with.

"I didn't know what he meant me to bring to him, so I went around asking. But all people would say was that if I was so clever, I should be able to figure it out on my own. So I got an idea, to go somewhere in disguise and see if the Creator might mention what he wanted from me. I got all the birds in the world together, and took one feather from each of them, and I sewed them into this cloak, so I could fly up to his hut and listen."

Loki waited for a moment, hidden Grace expanding slightly at the mention of heaven, but he quashed it down and asked "That's it?" when it became apparent that Anansi was not going to continue talking.

Anansi flashed him a grin, white teeth stark against dark brown skin. "There is more, but most people don't have the patience to stand around listening to old Anansi tell tales. Besides, only children listen to stories like that."

"No good storyteller stops in the middle of a tale."

Anansi raised one eyebrow, the motion conveying his surprise at what Loki had implied. "Are you saying I'm no storyteller?"

"I didn't say that." Loki shrugged, grinning. "If you want to twist my words, feel free."

"All stories belong to me," Anansi said with the air of one who was announcing a great achievement. "Who else is better at telling them?"

"I bet I could be."

Something flared in Anansi's eyes, and the area was saturated with Trickster power, Loki's seðir rising to meet Anansi's magic.

"Is that a challenge?" The god asked, and for a moment Loki saw a flicker of a spider behind him, a man with eight legs, a momentary mirage of triple vision that lasted only a moment, but Loki knew what he saw.

"What if it is?" Loki replied, golden eyes flickering, though he couldn't see it, and grinned broadly, a show of teeth that was primal and dominant and most definitely a challenge.

And suddenly Anansi was grinning back just as fiercely and sharply, his patterned clothing fluttering in a wind that swept across the landscape and tugged them both towards a village which had appeared on the horizon.

"Done," He said, the wind dying down. "If I can gather a larger crowd with my stories, then I get something of yours."

"Like what?" Loki had learned the dangers of letting the opponent set the rules of the wager.

Anansi waved a hand dismissively. "Who knows? Perhaps a favor that I will call on in years to come."

"A favor, then. And if I win?" Loki let his gaze linger on jewel-bright feathers. "How about that magic cloak of yours?"

"Bold!" Anansi laughed. "My cloak? Of course, if only because you have no chance of winning it."

"You won't be saying that when people like my stories better." Loki said cockily.

"All stories are mine," Anansi repeated, just as smugly as the first time. "And it is you, not I, who will be admitting defeat."

"We'll see." Loki didn't know _that_ many stories, but he'd gotten quite good at making them up - he had to be, to get out of the trouble he so often found himself in. How hard could it be, to gather a crowd?

"What's the time limit?"

"One day," Anansi decided. "Each, that is. Today I will tell tales, tomorrow you, and so on until the end of the market week, so that we may make sure the other is not cheating."

"Done," Loki said, echoing Anansi's words from earlier. "I hope you'll keep that cloak clean for when I take it."

"I hope you are willing to do whatever I may ask of you."

* * *

_One market week later._

"This is odd."

"I was about to say that, but I'll settle for agreeing with you."

"I suppose it's not that odd. You did use magic, after all."

"You never said it wasn't allowed," Loki pointed out, irritated. "And it's not my fault we came to a tie."

Anansi was frowning thoughtfully at the village below them - the last target for their competition. "But a tie it was," He replied, looking over at Loki. They were both perched in a tree, Anansi balanced carefully on a branch and Loki having dropped down wherever happened to support his weight.

"A tie it was," Loki agreed. "Which means we can try again - though I doubt the result will be different - or we can come to an agreement."

"What sort of agreement?" Anansi tilted forward curiously, to the point where a normal human would long ago have fallen off. The advantages of being a spider, Loki mused.

Loki waved a hand idly. "We need to agree on _something._ What about what was promised? There's no clear winner."

"No, there is not." Anansi seemed to get what Loki was going at. "So who gets their prize?"

"How about both of us?" Loki suggested.

"Both of us?"

"I owe you a favor, you lose your cloak." Loki clarified, one eyebrow raised as he waited for the god's reaction.

Anansi seemed wary, one hand straying to where the cloak hung off his shoulder as though he thought Loki might grab it and run.

"Come on," Loki pressed. "I did get just as many people to listen, didn't I?"

"You used magic, Loki," Anansi pointed out.

"And you didn't?"

A grin snuck across Anansi's face. "Fair enough," He said, untying the cloak and letting it drop down to where Loki sat. "Remember that favor, then, until I come and collect it."

"I'll be sure to leave myself a reminder."

* * *

_895 AD_

_Asgard_

_Wotan's Hall_

"You don't remember?"

"Remember what?" Wotan turned away from his own conversation with Frigg towards Loki, who grinned. Thor [who Loki had bee talking to previously] just looked confused, although Loki privately thought that that was the Æsir's default expression.

"Well..." Loki leaned back in his chair, sifting through recent memory to recall the incident more clearly. "Wotan, you remember that time a few years ago when you sent a delegation to visit Jötunheim? And they were hosted by that giant, Thrym?"

Wotan's expression sharpened in interest, while Thor's morphed to one of slight horror.

"Loki, don't-"

"Apparently," Loki continued, speaking over Thor and grinning even wider as the outburst attracted further attention [from those who could hear it, at least - the hall was full of Æsir talking and drinking and generally enjoying themselves, which involved quite a lot of noise], "Thor woke up back here the day afterwards and realized that Mjolnir was gone."

That stirred a round of guffaws and stares.

"You lost Mjolnir?" Sif asked from her seat next to Thor, sounding half surprised and half amused.

"It wasn't like that," Thor protested.

"Then what was it like?" Someone shouted down the table, and attention turned back to Loki, who cocked one eyebrow.

"Thor, obviously, thought that _I'd_ stolen it - like I'd ever do anything like that-" Loki paused while scattered laughter made its rounds. "My point is that Mjolnir is basically a giant block of iron that I have absolutely no use for. In any case, Thor immediately tracked me down and demanded to know what I'd done with his hammer. I managed to convince him I hadn't done anything, at least."

"Are you sure you had nothing to do with it?" Frigg asked, mouth curved in amusement.

"I'm hurt, Frigg, truly, that you would cast doubt on me like that." Loki's grin belied his words. "He then decided that Freyja must know where his hammer was - why, I don't know, but he persuaded me to go ask her with him."

"And by persuaded, you mean forced?"

"Exactly." Loki paused to take a drink from his horn - mead wasn't meant for sitting around in cups. "Freyja didn't know where it was either, not that I really expected her to - I mean, _I_ didn't know - but she told Thor that the giants might have had something to do with it. And then _they_ decided that I should be the one to go and see if anyone in Jötunheim was responsible, so Freyja lent me her cloak and off I went."

It still galled Loki that Freyja had tricked _him,_ of all people, out of the feather cloak he'd won from Anansi, but the mere fact that she'd been able to do so made him resolve to let her keep it. It wasn't every day that someone could match his cunning - at least not in Asgard.

Frigg and Wotan came close, but they were _Frigg_ and _Wotan._ Even Gabriel wouldn't have dared challenge their authority if they asked for something. If Frigg had wanted it, she probably could have just asked for the cloak and Loki would have had to give it to her.

"Jötunheim was fairly empty, as usual, but the first giant I came across was sitting on top of one of the mountains that are everywhere over there, and grinning like you've never seen. So I landed in a nearby tree - and keep in mind, that cloak disguised me, too, so the giant had no idea who he was talking to - and I asked him why he was so happy.

"Like a complete idiot, the giant just laughed and told me that he'd stolen the hammer of Thor from right out under his nose."

"A barefaced lie," Thor muttered mutinously.

"Not really," Loki remarked, and continued with the story before Thor could start shouting. "I realized that the giant was Thrym, our host from the other night, and asked him what he was going to do with a hammer he couldn't use. So he told me that if the Æsir could meet his price, he'd give the hammer back, and that they'd have to agree for whatever he asked since he'd buried the hammer so far underground that they'd never find it."

"What was his price?" Sif asked.

"Freyja."

Frigg tutted and shook her head, but no one else seemed very surprised.

"I am guessing," Sif said slowly, "Judging by Freyja's presence here tonight, that you didn't simply hand her over in exchange for the hammer."

"Of course not," Loki replied, acting shocked.

"That was your plan originally," Thor reminded him.

Loki waved a hand dismissively. "Details. And Freyja refused, in any case, so we decided on a substitute."

"Who?"

Loki tilted his drinking horn to point at Thor, who looked like he'd have been hiding behind the table if not for his inflated ego.

Even Wotan had trouble holding back a grin, but most of the table had no such reservations and burst into uproarious laughter. Sif was shaking, but in a miraculous example of self-control was doing her best not to laugh aloud. Thor's expression was as stormy as the skies usually were whenever he was around.

"I wasn't the only one who disguised myself," Thor protested, once he could make himself heard. "Or do my memories deceive me?"

"I was an excellent woman, I'll have you know," Loki shot back. "And a far sight prettier than you, I'd say. Besides, I only came along to make sure you didn't screw everything up - and it's a good thing I did."

"What did he do?"

Loki made a dramatic, fake-exasperated gesture before answering.

"Well, if you can believe it, Thrym didn't seem to think there was anything wrong when we got there, and invited us in to sit down and eat, and this idiot helps himself to half the oxen at the table and as much mead as he can drink."

There was more laughter, mixed in with a few groans. Sif swatted her husband on the shoulder. "You really couldn't restrain yourself?" Thor didn't answer - presumably he was trying to pretend that this wasn't happening. There were people at the table who were still laughing, having found the story funnier than their fellows.

"Of course, it fell to me to allay Thrym's suspicions," Loki began again, "So I told him that on the way here, his 'bride' hadn't eaten a single thing because she was so excited."

"Should I be jealous?" Even Loki had to pause and wait for his laughter to subside at Sif's 'innocent' comment. Thor had gone from embarrassed to slightly murderous, but Loki knew he'd never dare break the peace in a hall like this - it was Wotan's feast day, after all, and son or no Wotan would be furious if he did.

Loki took a deep breath, holding back additional giggles and sitting upright again before starting his story where he left off. "Well-" The table quieted almost instantly, which was gratifying. "Thrym, for whatever reason, didn't see anything wrong with that - probably because I lie better than any of you, but nevermind that - which was lucky for us. But of course, Thor wasn't done putting our little adventure into deceit at risk."

"Thor kept leaning forward to reach more food, see, and we'd given him a veil so Thrym wouldn't immediately realize who he was. But every time Thor leaned forward, the veil fell forward a little bit, and eventually Thrym caught sight of his eyes. Which normally wouldn't be a big deal, but eyes can be pretty expressive - and this _is_ Thor we're talking about, so he was furious."

There were a few understanding mutters and Wotan nodded approvingly, but he didn't interrupt Loki.

"At least, I assume Thrym only saw his eye - that's all he asked about, at least. And once again I had to make an excuse, so this time I told him that Thor had been so excited, 'she' hadn't slept a wink on the way there."

The 'I'm going to kill you' glare being sent at Loki by Thor didn't do anything to convince him to stop talking, and he grinned broadly at the god sitting next to him.

"At this point, actually, there was a bit of an interruption. One of Thrym's sisters or cousins - they were related in some way, I assume, or else why would she have been in his house? - burst into the room and demanded a wedding gift. Which is strange, since it wasn't her wedding, but maybe they've got the customs backwards in Jötumheim. Thrym refused her - she asked for rings of red gold, by the way - but Thor took the opportunity to ask for one as well - specifically, Mjolnir, which at this point everybody knew Thrym had stolen."

"Thrym, being a gigantic idiot and since for all intents and appearances it was Freyja who had asked, went and dug up Mjolnir from wherever he'd hidden it, and just hands it over to Thor, who proceeds to rip the veil off and unleash Helheim on anyone unfortunate enough to be in the room."

This time the laughs were mixed in with approving cheers, and Thor beamed, having momentarily forgotten his embarrassment. People broke into their own separate conversations again, realizing that the tale was done, and as Loki sat back in his chair and Thor turned away Wotan leaned closer.

"A worthy tale," He said, smiling. "I did wonder what might happen if you and Thor were to work together."

"Well, now you know." Loki took a long sip from his drinking horn. Talking was work, unless it involved somebody else being screwed over, and then it was effortlessly fun.

"I can hardly decide whether it is a good thing or not, since the two of you are apparently capable of wreaking so much havoc."

"It's probably never going to happen again, so I wouldn't worry about it."

Wotan grinned. "No, I suppose not. I wonder why I never heard this tale before?"

Loki smiled back, a lazy half-smirk that spoke of a treasure trove of secrets. "Where would the fun be in telling you everything that happens to me?"

* * *

_930 AD  
_

_Midgard...sort of_

_The þingvǫllr between realms  
_

Gabriel - or more specifically, Loki - might have been a part of the Norse Pantheon now, but that didn't mean he kept to exclusively hanging out with gods from that pantheon.

How boring would that be?

Loki might have been tied down to certain beliefs and rules - though far less than there had been in Heaven - but that didn't mean he'd changed completely.

Which is how he found himself participating in things like this.

Anansi grinned as he spotted Loki, and moved across what appeared to be a forest clearing, but it occasionally wavered and Loki caught glimpses of how the other gods in attendance perceived it.

"I knew you would be here," Anansi said, settling onto what appeared to be a rock.

"It's a meeting of tricksters, where else would I be?" Loki had initially been wary when he'd caught wind of the message, but how could he resist attending a meeting like this?

Even if he didn't know what it was for.

The clearing he was in now was one of the rare places in the world where multiple realms joined up. Loki had come in through Vanaheim, and he knew that Olympus as well as Brahmapura, Yomi, and various other islands and such that had passed into legend.

Some people called it Axis Mundi. Loki preferred to think of it as a crossing of paths - not all realms met here, after all, especially not the realms of the dead. Most of them were easy enough to get into - if you knew how and where - but meeting at one of those places would guarantee minimal attendance.

And to think, he didn't even know who had organized the meeting. Anansi, when he asked, didn't know either.

"But I came, same as you," He said with a grin. "Either we are both confident or we are both stupid, and either way we are in this together."

"I wouldn't go that far." Loki pulled one leg up and propped his chin on his knee, watching other gods and goddesses appear out of nowhere as they exited whatever realm they traveled through to get there. "We barely know each other."

"We have met and talked and bet." Anansi eyed Loki, and Loki knew he was looking for magic. "Where is that cloak, by the way?"

"Well, that's actually a pretty long story."

"Do you have it anymore?"

"Why is that the first thing you assume?"

Someone strode into the middle of the clearing before Anansi could reply.

"Welcome!" They swept their hands out in a wide gesture.

Loki leaned over to Anansi and whispered "They look like they're part of your pantheon. Man or woman?"

"They're not," Anansi hissed back. "And you're one to talk - don't think I haven't heard some of the stories about what you get up to."

Loki shoved his knee into the side of Anansi's head to get him to shut up - not that he was actually offended. So what if he liked putting his new shapeshifting abilities to use? It wasn't like he technically _had_ a gender, vessel notwithstanding, and it was interesting to switch things up.

The deity standing in the center spread their arms. "I'm sure you're all wondering what I intend to do here."

"Get on with it!" Someone yelled, to an accompaniment of scattered laughter. Loki could already tell that this meeting was going to go south.

Well, in a meeting of Tricksters, where else was there to go?

The deity had been talking this whole time, and Loki shifted slightly and stopped tuning them out. It couldn't hurt to pay attention.

"Why not put that to use?" The deity asked.

"Put what to use?" A goddess with an almost fox-like appearance called out, though it would be difficult for anyone to explain exactly _how_ that impression was conveyed. "The fact that we all like stirring up a mess?"

"Exactly!"

The god next to the fox one snorted at the leading deity's exclamation. "I don't even know you," He said derisively. "I barely know _any_ of you. Why should I trust a single word you say?"

"You shouldn't," Loki called out, making both of them turn to look at him. "They're a trickster! Who says every word they speak isn't a lie?"

"We're all tricksters," Someone else shouted, though scattered rounds of laughter almost muffled them. "Why should we trust _you?"_ There was a joking - more mocking, really - edge to their words.

"You probably shouldn't." Loki said, smirking and leaning back on his seat. "But I don't trust any of you, either, so I'd say it's only fair that you not put yours in me."

"And why should any of us bond together, as you say?" A woman with a traditional Greek hairstyle leaned forward, eyes gleaming. The being in the center of the rough circle turned to face her instead, shoulders rising in an imposing stance.

"Why not?" They challenged. "Think what we could do together!"

"No, thank you," Said a man with a hooked nose and dark skin. "I work fine on my own."

The deity stilled as mutters made their way around the clearing. The only thing Tricksters agreed on was that territory was territory - and you didn't edge in on somebody else's land.

The train of thought made Loki frown. The deity who had called them all together was a trickster, too - that much was obvious, or they wouldn't have been able to contact so many of the same kind of being. But then why propose working together.

"What kind of idea did you have, anyway?" A short boy - girl? It was difficult to tell - was perched on another rock which jutted out of the ground like a sundial, hovering on the very tip. They must have had the same idea as Loki.

Another being nodded, this one looking more female than male. "Indeed," They said, holding their head high. "Give us a reason, Eshu."

Eshu - the being in the center - tilted their head slightly, and Loki could tell that they were grinning even though the deity's back was to him. "A reason?" They asked, and only another trickster would have been able to detect the falseness in their innocence - that, and magic was threaded through their words like thread through a loom.

Wariness sparked through the circle like lightning. Next to Loki Anansi sat up straighter.

"I'm going to get blamed for this," He muttered.

That was about when everything turned to chaos.

Well, what else could be expected with so many tricksters in close quarters?

This was going to be _fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll have you all know that I'm not sure entirely where I'm going with this one. I'll make it up as I go along, basically. What's the harm? That's how I write basically everything anyway.
> 
> And no, the Trickster scene in the last chapter is not going to be explained further. I left it open-ended on purpose - just imagine that there was basically a lot of chaos and everyone eventually went back to their own realms.
> 
> It gets a little darker in this chapter, I'm afraid - I've realized that I sort of skimmed through a lot, without giving a ton of detail [in an effort to stop things from dragging on] but for this I decided to use a bit more than I usually do, to give you guys more of an insight into Gabriel's thoughts.
> 
> Part of this chapter [well, quite a lot of it actually] is taken [with permission] largely from Buffintruda's The Death and Rebirth of Baldur [only on ff.net, as far as I can tell], which I highly recommend that all of you read, though in an effort not to plagiarize I've taken a few liberties with the plot. The general idea [the core of which is grounded in Norse myths] remains the same, though. I've actually known what was going to happen for a while, and I'm very glad that I've finally gotten a chance to write it out.
> 
> You get an extra long chapter this time, because I didn't want to split it up into multiple installments.
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

By now visiting Hel had become almost a regular occurrence for Loki - she was nice, after all, and quite the patient listener, even if Loki suspected that most of the time she just sat there and let him talk.

Gabriel had grown strangely protective of the four of them - well, technically six, but Vali and Narvi never grew as close to him, and since the only thing connecting them to the other four was the fact that myths assigned them all the position of Loki's children, they were never as close to their supposed half-siblings.

[Their mother, Sigyn, was an entirely different story, though she was surprisingly willing to hang around Loki, even if they never did often. Loki had once told her that she was the only one in Asgard he actually enjoyed spending long periods of time with. She'd told him to stop flirting.]

Gabriel might have been entertained by the myths and some of the things he was supposed to have gotten up to [he was sure that one or two of those tales came purely from Thor's drunken storytelling] but he also took them surprisingly seriously at times - after all, even if he wasn't really Loki, this was the orgin of the godlings [well, maybe full-fledged gods by now] that he'd begun to like.

Slepnir, Jormungand, Fenris, and Hel might not have been the most typical family, but they grew on him.

Even if he'd practically had a heart attack the first time Hel had called him 'Father'.

[Even now, the thought of _him_ being a father still made Gabriel feel a little off-kilter - he wasn't a father, _his_ Parent was a Father, _the_ Father, but if there was anything wrong with it surely he'd have been smote by now, so Gabriel chose to think that his Parent, wherever the hell They might be, was okay with it].

In the present, Loki was enjoying life - and what wasn't there to enjoy? The Norse - well, by now they'd started calling themselves the Normans or something similarly idiotic, but that was beside the point - were at the height of their power, or so it seemed, and even if he wasn't _really_ Loki it was still Loki's body, and Loki was drawing in plenty of power from worshippers and other sources.

Which was good news for him - the more power he borrowed from Loki, the less often he had to use his Grace. And that suited Gabriel perfectly, since he was content with using his Grace as little as possible - it only made him more visible in the eyes of Heaven, and would make it more obvious to the Æsir around him that he wasn't exactly what he said he was.

And Loki was fairly well cemented into Norse religion at this point, so Gabriel was beginning to think that for once, he had everything covered.

Of course he should have known that it could never be that easy for long.

* * *

_1110 AD_

_Helheim_

It started with Wotan - although so much time had passed that things had changed that his followers had started pronouncing it Woden, and he had followed suit.

Of course, Loki didn't immediately _know_ that Woden was at the root of the problem, so it really started with his usual visit to Hel fizzling out before it really started.

"Hel?" She was surprisingly close to where he'd landed, and Loki paused when she didn't reply. "Hello to you, too." Loki frowned when he still got no response. "Something wrong?"

Hel turned slightly, so that instead of her back her right side was now facing Loki. "You have not realized?" Something sounded off about her voice, but Loki couldn't place it.

"Realized what?" Loki felt a sinking feeling in his chest - what would be bad enough to affect Hel like this?

Hel made a noise that sounded vaguely like a laugh, if you weren't listening too closely. "Where's Fenris?"

Loki was gone practically before she finished.

If something had happened to Fenris and he hadn't noticed, he'd never forgive himself.

* * *

_Still 1110 AD_

_Various places_

He couldn't find Fenris.

The wolf's usual roaming grounds were empty, and Loki searched high and low over every inch of them to make sure that he hadn't missed something, panic building. It wasn't likely that something had killed Fenris - and he knew for _sure_ that that was impossible, because then Fenris would have been _with_ Hel instead of the latter being so distraught over his absence - but incapacitation was just as unlikely, given that Fenris _was_ a giant wolf.

If someone had done something to Fenris, they would have had to at least be another god.

Loki stopped cold in his tracks. He didn't notice where he'd stopped, or the fact that the ground and nearby plants were reacting as though being blasted with immense heat, because right then the only thing his mind could focus on was one thought.

The only other gods who would have any interest in doing something to Fenris were in Asgard.

No one else would have been able to find him [and it meant that this was planned, that this was pointed and probably committed by someone who had a grudge against Loki and _this was his fault._ ]

Any guilt that Loki felt was almost immediately overwhelmed by _anger -_ a slow, simmering rage that reared up inside him and stoked itself to an inferno. Anyone watching might have noticed that Gabriel's eyes were glowing [and so was the rest of him, to some extent] but then again anyone watching probably would have died even from the limited glimpse of an archangel's true form. Gabriel's fingernails dug into his palms, teeth clenched together, and his entire body was a tightly wound mess of absolute _fury_.

If his Grace hadn't been buried so deep, Asgard might have been wiped off the map in an instant of the same power that had destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah in an attempt to wipe out the demons.

As it was, he could barely stop himself from doing anything to the empty throne room where he landed.

"Loki." The fact that it was empty was only at first glance, but it had taken less than half a second for Loki to notice the presence in the room, even though the throne it usually occupied was empty. Woden was standing near the door [blocking it, perhaps, but it was almost childish how naive he had to be, to think he could stop Gabriel from getting out if he really wanted to]. His expression was guarded, and also steadily blank, as if making an effort to show as little emotion as possible.

"Where is he?" Loki didn't care if he was being rude by asking so abruptly or coldly, or that Woden might not even have had anything to do with it. What he cared about was getting answers.

Woden didn't pretend not to know what Loki was talking about. "It is of no matter."

Gabriel's power snapped and he only barely tried to contain his Grace, white mixing in for half a second with green _seðir_ and lashing out, Woden barely dodging to the side in time. Gungnir barely worked as a defense, but it _was_ just as pagan as Loki's borrowed magic and imbued with a strange power from the dwarves, so Loki was more irritated than surprised when it actually deflected the whiplike splash of green power.

"Actually, I think it matters quite a lot." Loki was surprised when his voice came out so steadily. "Answer the question."

Woden lowered Gungnir warily, regarding Loki as if he had not truly expected the latter to lash out at a blood-brother. "Why care about the wolf?" He asked eventually, doing nothing to calm Loki's anger [and in fact doing the opposite] and with honest confusion mixed with scorn. "Forget about it."

"Forget about it?" Loki asked tightly, and this time Woden most definitely noticed the danger in his tone. "I get that you don't like them, but this? Covering up what your people have done-"

"I only did what I knew was right."

And that made Loki stop dead in his tracks.

" _You_ did?" He almost whispered it, and the mere fact that Woden himself had been involved was making memories surface of the last time a brother had betrayed him - memories Gabriel ruthlessly shoved down, anger sparking again and practically consuming him, because _this_ was so far out of line it wasn't even remotely funny.

"It was getting out of control." Woden said with a solid finality, and Loki was facing the All-Father now, not his brother, and he realized with a jolt that by 'it' Woden meant Fenris. "A wolf like that-"

"You seem fine with Freki and Geri," Loki bit out, glaring so hard he was sure Woden must have felt the heat of it.

"My wolves are not nearly as large." Woden remained unfazed, though Loki could sense a tendril of unease snaking through him.

"And that makes a difference?"

"Fenris would have gotten out of control! You could not have hoped to contain it."

 _"He didn't need to be controlled!"_ Several nearby pieces of furniture hurled themselves at the wall and broke, such was the force of Loki's words, and for a moment worry was visible in Woden's eyes. Gabriel was steaming [by now, possibly literally] and didn't care what the former thought.

He wouldn't have cared if the entire Host had come crashing down to Earth to haul him back to Heaven at that exact second, because _Woden had fucked with his family._

Gabriel didn't know when he had moved, or how Woden had come to be pinned under his hands against the wall, but Gungnir clattered to the floor and the two of them were much, much closer.

"You will tell me where he is." Gabriel's voice was quiet, but at such close quarters it didn't need to be very loud. He didn't phrase it like a question.

Woden met his gaze evenly. "No."

Gabriel's hand tightened, and he _felt_ Woden stiffen, and knew in that exact moment that it was up to him.

Live or die?

Gabriel was all-powerful - he could do whatever he wanted, and _nothing_ these damned pagans could do would make a single difference. They were creatures of thought, existing only because of the power of the human mind and spirit, and Gabriel was older than all of them put together, infinitely more powerful and he knew it.

But right now, he was Loki, not Gabriel.

Loki stepped away and Woden kept his feet, eyeing the latter warily and with no small amount of surprise.

"What are you planning?" Woden asked, a healthy amount of suspicion coloring the question, but Loki didn't answer.

He was already gone.

If Woden wouldn't give him answers, then he'd persuade the All-Father to do so - and maybe take some revenge in the process.

* * *

_1128 AD_

_Asgard_

Baldur was the easiest target, by far - and the one who would cause the most chaos with his death, so win-win for Loki.

It had been tempting to go for him earlier, make a sudden move, but Loki knew he had to wait, wait for Woden to become less suspicious, relax his guard, and stop worrying about what 'Loki' might do.

Even if it meant waiting 18 years, which while not as long in the eyes of gods or angels was still far too long for Fenris to be missing.

No one in Asgard noticed Loki, since he didn't want to be noticed, and Baldur certainly didn't notice the hexbag under his pillow.

Loki was usually disdainful of the witches' methods, since they were so much cruder than his own, but either Grace [not an option] or seðir would be far too noticeable, even if the majority of Æsir paid little attention to 'Loki's' magic.

In any case, even if Baldur didn't notice the one under the pillow [or the one under the mattress, or stuck to the underside of the windowsill, or hidden behind his bookshelf, or on top of the canopy of his stupid bed - Loki was very thorough, after all, and one under the pillow might be easily discovered] he most definitely felt their effects, and Loki was around to hear it.

Why bother doing anything if you're not going to stick around and enjoy the effects?

"Baldur, are you quite alright?" Frigg's voice was gentle and concerned - she was the All-Mother, after all, the epitome of motherhood, even if the Norse never set much stock by her simply because she was a woman. Loki found her gift for foresight somewhat intimidatingly good, not that he'd ever tell her that.

"It's nothing, Moðir, just a bad dream." A bad dream was exactly what it was - a foreshadowing of events to come, twisted as far as Gabriel could twist it without going too far - the hexbags could include some unsavory ingredients, and while Gabriel was willing to do a lot there were certain places he wouldn't go - and certain places he couldn't.

Angel of the Lord and all that, not that he'd been one of those for quite a while.

"Another one?" It was worry now, more than concern, in Frigg's tone. "It's been a week, Baldur. Will you please tell me what is troubling you?"

"It is - I thought it might have solved the problem the other day, but I must not have."

"Solved it how?"

Baldur laughed, and there was a faint rustle. "If you will believe it, I found what looked like a witch's instrument under my pillow."

"A _witch's_ instrument? Baldur, don't joke. How could one have gotten into Asgard?"

"I know. It may not have been."

"What are your dreams about?" Frigg asked gently, and Loki heard the vague rustle of movement, peeking invisibly around the corner to see that Frigg had sat down next to Baldur on a small bench - one of many that decorated the more personal area of the castle where Woden made his court.

"They are so chaotic that often it is hard to tell."

"And when you can tell?"

There was a long breath, with the faintest quivering in it. "Death," Baldur said finally. "My own. Every night it is something new, and I cannot..." He broke off with a sharp intake of breath.

"I have seen no such thing," Frigg said immediately, and fiercely. "Your life is in no danger."

"Then who placed that thing in my room, Moðir?"

There was a moment of silence, during which even the wind rustling by seemed to be listening. "We will solve this," Frigg said quietly, and her words could have carved themselves into stone. "You are not going to die, Baldur, not even if the Norns themselves say it must be so."

Well, that was sweet, but Frigg was more than a little bit outclassed.

* * *

_Still 1128 AD_

_Ireland, near the border between_ _Na Sceirí and Avalon  
_

"You know, you might like those gods of yours - what was it, Asgard they lived in, eh? - but I don't put much store by them!"

"Why not?" Loki asked. He - well, she, now - had taken on a disguise - perfectly harmless, and who would bother a woman traveling on the road? Her current [and temporary] host snorted in disdain.

"Well, like I said, you might like 'em but _I_ don't like the way they treat their women. No sense, that's what! Your Frigg can see all she wants of the future, and no one takes advantage of it?" The black kettle practically slammed onto the table, before the woman remembered what she'd intended to do with it and poured it into the two cups that had already been set out.

Loki took a polite sip - she was dealing with a witch, after all, and if nothing else the rules of hospitality would protect the witch from doing anything horrible to her current vessel once Loki had drunk it. A few slices of bread sat on the table, a few bites taken out, proof to the fact that the other half of the rules had already been fulfilled.

"How would you know what Frigg does?" Loki asked in mild [and false] curiosity. "If you dislike the Norman's religion that much, I wouldn't think you'd waste time reading their stories."

"Well..." The woman hesitated. "You know, I do a few things on the side - herbs and the like, it comes in handy, you see-"

"You're a witch."

"Shhhh!" The woman gestured forcefully.

"Oh, I don't mind," Loki said cheerfully, internally wincing at the grating feel of her voice in this disguise. She'd be glad to ditch this one. "That would make me quite the hypocrite."

That gave the witch pause. "I don't see anything particularly powerful about you," She said, giving Loki a considering look.

"Oh, I'm not, really." Lie. "And I haven't used my own power in quite a while." True.

"Well, then..." The witch hesitated for a moment longer, and then seemed to decide that the [by the standards of this area] elderly woman didn't pose any sort of threat. "She's been here, as a matter of fact. Asking _me_ for help!"

"Frigg?" Loki widened her eyes in false astonishment. " _No._ Why you?"

"Well, I don't know, do I? She's lucky she didn't go to a wizard, though. Useless lot, them. Not a speck of real power between 'em - all smoke and mirrors, just flashy stuff! It's mostly them that's been caught whenever someone's shouting about finding a witch, you know. Wizards ain't got a bit of subtlety. You know the only reason they're so popular? Is 'cause they're exclusively _men._ That's sexist, that is. Do you see us being picky about gender?"

"Believe me, I know," Loki sighed, before pretending to perk up in interest. "But what did Frigg want?"

"Told me to make her son invulnerable."

Loki gave the witch a look that clearly said that she thought the former was joking. "That's impossible."

"I know, and I think a god's the last one who needs anything like that, but who 'm I to argue with a _goddess?"_

"So you did?"

"Best I could. She went about it pretty oddly, told me to do it one at a time. Would've been better to just get it all over with at once, but like I said, who am I to correct her?"

"I thought you didn't like the Norse."

"Well I'm not gonna bloody well say that to her face, am I? Do I look like I've got a death wish to you?" The witch didn't wait for an answer. "She got most things, too. Arrows, knives, axes, swords, daggers, fire, water, poison, stone, disease, animals, people-"

Loki held up a hand. "I understand." She said quickly.

The witch looked faintly embarrassed. "Oh - well, of course." She cleared her throat before continuing, sounding smug. "Didn't get everything, though."

"Oh?" Loki didn't lean forward in interest, and forced herself to look slightly bored.

"That's right." The witch straightened her back in an effort to look imposing and draw her guest back into the conversation. "Forgot mistletoe. Not much you can do with that, really, aside from turning into a poison, and she remembered _that_ alright, but I supposed mistletoe doesn't exactly seem like something you'd need to guard against, would ya?"

"Not really." Loki shrugged, and then pushed back her chair, standing with a slight struggle that made her inwardly scowl. "I should be going, actually. I didn't mean to spend so much time here." She'd been here long enough - too long would be pushing it, and the last thing Loki needed was for the Morrígan or someone else to come along and recognize her.

"Good luck on the road," The witch said, not seeming overly disappointed to see her guest go.

"Thank you." Road or no road, Loki didn't think she'd need luck to trick a bunch of Æsir, but she'd heard enough stories to know when to be polite.

* * *

_Still still 1128 AD_

_Asgard_

_The feast hall of Gladsheim_

Loki had long ago grown used to the partying habits of Asgard, but that didn't mean he liked the crowded halls and the press of people on every side of him. Crowded places always made him wary that someone might brush against his wings, that everything might come crashing down. The thought made Loki laugh to himself as he shoved his way through into a less-populated area of the hall.

Well. Everything was about to come down on him anyway, so who cared if someone found his wings?

It would make things a little harder, sure, but he'd been in worse situations.

Baldur was at one end of the hall, obviously - it was where the most noise and people and the light and laughter were brightest, and Loki wound his way through the chatter and hangers-on at the edge of the closed-in circle and found a not entirely surprising scene.

They were hurling weapons at Baldur. Every one of them simply bounced off, or clattered to the god's feet, to be greeted with a fresh bout of laughter and cheering, and calls for something else, something stronger - not that any of them actually thought it would work, or else they wouldn't have dared.

It wasn't even about Baldur being Woden's son - everyone just _liked_ him.

Lingering on the edge of the crowd, Loki noticed Hodr, Baldur's brother, staring at nothing in particular in a similar state.

An idea began to grow in Loki's head, attaching itself to the already-flowering plan he'd laid out years previously, and with a grin he knew Hodr wouldn't be able to see he walked over to the other god.

"Hodr. Not joining in with their game?" Loki fiddled with his voice enough that Hodr wouldn't recognize it - the last thing he needed was for the man to be on his guard, which he would be if he knew who he was talking to.

"Of course not." Hodr sounded [surprisingly] less bitter than Loki had expected. "How would a blind Æsir aim?"

"True. No one's offered to help you throw?"

"They're too busy having fun."

"You don't sound jealous."

"I'm not." Loki privately thought that Hodr was lying, to himself maybe more than Loki, but he let the god continue. "I'm just glad his nightmares have stopped."

"Nightmares?" Loki faked confusion easily, letting one arm rest on Hodr's shoulder. It was easy, since the god was shorter than Loki.

"The All-Mother wasn't the only one who noticed." Hodr smiled, blind eyes still fixed a foot or so away from where Baldur was standing and laughing along with the rest of them. "I could hear it when I spoke to him - whatever he dreamed, it scared him badly."

Good, Loki thought viciously, and decided not to waste any more time.

"I'd help you aim, if you want. You're an archer, aren't you?"

"Really?" Hodr turned to face Loki, sightless eyes still managing to widen in surprise, and then corrected himself. "I mean, yes, but-"

"Really," Loki reassured him, smiling in a way that if Hodr could see it would have made him doubt whether Loki's intentions were pure [they weren't].

Grinning, Hodr took his bow from where it rested against the wall nearby, turning back towards the crowd. He reached for the quiver at his hip, which Loki had emptied seconds previously, and stopped Hodr from realizing that by handing him an arrow. "Here."

Of course, Hodr had no way of knowing that the arrow was made out of mistletoe, or that it was the one thing that would actually be able to kill Baldur.

And Loki wasn't particularly inclined to tell him.

Loki felt a brief pang - he knew the laws as well as anyone, and murder [even if everyone would guess that Loki was really the one behind it] was punishable by death. As long as he didn't physically pull the string or shoot the arrow, he wouldn't be dead.

Or pretending to be dead, since the Æsir had no way of killing an angel, much less an archangel, but Hodr would not have been his first choice to do the deed. It was simply the choice that had to be made.

If Woden was going to attack his family, then Loki would see how he liked loosing two of his sons.

"Am I aiming at him?"

"No, a bit more to the left." Loki was careful not to actually reach up and move the bow or even Hodr's arm to correct his aim - once it had been done, Asgard would take whatever proof it had to try and claim that they had a right to put him to death, and he was determined to give them nothing. "Up a little - no, that's too far - now slightly to the right - yes, you've got it now."

Hodr let the arrow fly, and Loki was gone in the same instant.

He now stood on the steps of the hall, and he didn't have to turn around and look to know exactly when it happened.

There was a sudden hushed silence inside the hall, unusually so for an Asgardian mead hall [or any mead hall really] and a heavy thump as something weighty and soft hit the floor.

Loki looked up, and grinned, and was gone before the roar of rage could fully leave the doors.

* * *

_Still still still 1128 AD_

_Helheim_

"You're back?"

"Ah, yes." Loki shrugged, Hel's gaze not making him particularly uncomfortable like it did to so many of the other inhabitants of the realm - he'd gotten used to it. "I wanted to warn you that there may be some trouble coming your way."

The living side of Hel's mouth curled into a grin. "If you speak of Woden, then your warning comes late."

"Does it?" Loki raised one eyebrow, taking a seat on a nearby outcrop near Hel's throne, where she was currently sitting like the royalty she was. "What did he ask?"

"For Baldur, of course." Hel replied. "I didn't think you'd be so obvious in your revenge."

Loki laughed, glancing off into the darkness that lay in front of them. "Oh, my plan isn't finished yet."

"No?"

"Not in the least."

"It was poetic, using one brother to kill the other and knowing Woden would be forced by his own laws to put the second to death." Hel mused. "Especially since that would send both of them to me."

"I think things through."

"And you thought it would be beneficial to have me managing their souls, instead of letting Baldur go to Valhalla, where he would be under no one's rule." Hel's gaze bored into the side of Loki's head. "And also where he would be untouchable."

"If Woden thought he had a chance..." Loki shrugged again. "Do you think I'd go to all of that trouble to kill him if I was planning on him coming back?"

"If you thought it would benefit you." Hel answered, crossing her legs.

"True enough. What did you tell Woden?"

"I told him that if he could prove that Baldur was truly as loved as he claimed, then - and only then - would I give him back."

"And?"

"And every living creature must cry for him."

"Nice impossible task," Loki snorted. "I doubt even Hercules could manage that, but to be honest that stable thing surprised me." He glanced up and saw the expression on Hel's face. "Oh, don't tell me they're honestly _trying."_

"Indeed."

" _Asgardians."_ Loki said it as disdainfully as possible. "I should've known."

"You're not going to try and stop them?"

"I don't _need_ to try. I'm a living person, aren't I?"

Hel smiled again. "Good. I dislike letting anyone leave, once they come here naturally."

"In this case, I'd hate to see him leave, too."

* * *

_1134 AD_

_Midgard_

The attempt to make everything cry for Baldur had been going surprisingly well, even if it had taken some time, so Loki decided that it was about time to reveal himself and show them the futility of their plan.

It was Frigg who came across him first. Loki was lucky it was her, honestly, because anyone else would have attacked first and forgotten that he was a living being too and, ergo, they needed his tears.

"Loki!"

"Heard about your plan," he said conversationally, not bothering to greet her in return. "Seems like it's a bit fragile."

"I will still try." Frigg replied, head held high.

"It's never going to work."

"If there is even the slightest hope that we can..." Frigg trailed off, expression growing colder. "But what do you care?" She asked. "It was you who tricked Hodr."

"Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't."

"You were there, that night."

"And how many can testify to that?" Loki challenged.

"Please, Loki," Frigg said softly. "Don't do this. What Woden did to your children was wrong, but we can fix this - fix your friendship with him-"

Loki's laughter interrupted her. "It was wrong, but you stood aside and let him do it?" He asked acidly, seeing Frigg's mouth thin and a flash of hurt pass over her face.

"I don't tell Woden what to do."

"And he never listens to you?" Gabriel questioned dryly.

"This is what you think you can do?" Frigg asked, ignoring Loki's question. "You _loved_ Baldur, like the rest of us. You would make toys for him when he was a child, you played with him!"

"Don't," Loki said softly, but Frigg ignored him.

"Is he really worth your quest for revenge?"

"This isn't just about revenge."

"Well then what is it about?" Frigg waited for Loki's answer, and when none was forthcoming she sighed. "Loki, you are not this cruel."

Gabriel's expression hardened as he looked back at Frigg. "Aren't I?" He asked flatly. "How's Hodr?"

Frigg actually flinched, her eyes squeezing shut briefly. "Dead," She bit out. "As you well know. Vali did it."

"Oooh." Loki raised his eyebrows. "His own cousin? Harsh. Though I guess Woden wouldn't do it himself-"

"Nanna is also dead." That information stopped Loki in his tracks. "She dove into Baldur's funeral pyre."

Nanna. Baldur's wife. Loki looked away - he hadn't meant to cause her death as well, but she and Baldur had always been close.

Another unavoidable domino falling over in the chain.

"Your friendship could be fixed," Frigg tried again, and Loki gave her a dark look before turning away.

"It's far too late for _that."_ He didn't need her to tell him that she was talking about Woden.

"Loki, _please."_

"I'm sorry." And he really was - part of him, at least. "But no."

* * *

_Still 1134 AD_

_Helheim_

"Woden has come to me again."

"What for?"

"What do you think?" Hel inquired. "It was about Baldur, of course."

"Of course," Loki repeated, sitting up. "What did he demand of you this time?"

"That I return him."

"He failed to meet your requirements."

"Which I duly reminded the All-Father, and also of the fact that what is dead must stay dead." Hel said stiffly, fingers flexing around her staff. "He was not pleased with my reply, and offered an alternative."

"An alternative?" Loki turned to face Hel fully, surprise and skepticism mixing inside him. "Like what?"

Hel took a deep breath. "It's about Vali and Narvi."

Loki froze.

"He wouldn't dare." It came out as barely a whisper.

"He has." Being emotionless was one of the basic words that might describe Hel, as queen of Helheim, but this was one of the only times that Loki had seen her struggling with it. "He threatened you, as well, and said he would tie you underneath Skadi for all eternity if Baldur was not returned to him."

"What has he done with them?" If Woden had dared, this couldn't have happened, _why did this have to happen-_

"I hold them both already."

That was the last thing Gabriel wanted to hear.

His anger expended itself in a single brutal flash, the souls already in Helheim fleeing from him and the unlucky ones who were too slow [which was most of the ones near enough] simply vanishing, nothing left to so much as suggest that they had once been there. "This wasn't supposed to _happen!"_

Gabriel sank to the ground, aware that Hel was crouching next to him, his face in his hands.

"This wasn't part of the plan." He said, the words slightly muffled.

"You cannot plan for everything," Hel said softly.

"I should have known." Loki was shaking his head. "I should have known Woden wouldn't be satisfied, that he'd do something in return." He took a deep breath, not that he needed the air, but it seemed to calm humans down except it wasn't working. "What did he-"

Loki's voice broke and he was shaking his head violently now. "No, no, I don't want to know. Don't tell me," He said sharply, even though Hel had made no move to speak.

"I will not." Hel's hair hung over her face and obscured most of it from view. "I wish I did not know."

Loki managed to put one arm around her, letting his face rest in the crook of her shoulder. "I brought this on you," He whispered.

"It is Woden who has done that," She answered immediately. "You are not to blame for his own foolishness."

"No, this is my fault." It was Gabriel who had gotten so furious that he had let it control him, who had decided on Baldur as the target, who had taken such lengths to cause Woden pain.

"It is not," Hel said firmly.

"Saying it more isn't going to make me believe it."

"You had better," Hel replied fiercely. "And I know you did not go through all this trouble to let Baldur live, so _think._ I don't want _either_ of them getting off clean."

Loki took a breath again and tried to compose himself. "I'll think of something."

* * *

_1135 AD_

_Midgard_

This cycle of revenge had to stop.

Loki could keep going, but that would mean everyone he loved in Asgard would feel the brunt of his mistakes, even if it was Asgard in the end who would pay the price - and it would be them, because they were just gods, and he was Gabriel.

He hadn't visited Sigyn yet, and wasn't planning on it - the less she saw of him, the better. He didn't know what had happened to Angrboda - the mother of the other four, technically three - and had never met her properly, but now he was actively avoiding it.

The less people Woden could take his anger out on, the better.

"What do you want?" Woden's voice was flat, anger still woven through it, and Loki's expression was equally blank when he turned around.

"To end this," Loki replied.

"End your petty machinations?"

"I'm not the only one being petty, but I am the only one who hasn't forgotten something." Loki stayed perfectly still, eyes flat and fixed on Woden, and he knew the latter was unnerved by it.

"Forgotten what?"

"An eye for an eye," Loki replied. "The ancient rules. Son for son, et cetera, et cetera...one returned for one returned."

He saw the understanding cross Woden's face, followed instantly by rage, but Loki didn't give him a chance to speak. "See, you thought forcing Hel's hand to return Baldur would be the end of it. You thought you could just take what you saw as revenge for what I did and then use that against her, and come out on top." Loki's eyes narrowed. "You have been attempting to play with my family and me like toys, and this ends. Now."

"You want Vali or Narvi back." Woden stated, a snarl creeping across his face.

"No, not them." The words were physically painful to say, even as Loki stood straight and held his head high like a king. Hel had been practically brokenhearted - if adamant - that she could not break her own rules.

She'd also admitted that it hadn't been Baldur's _true_ time, not yet, and she'd gone along with it only because of what happened to Fenris.

"Fenris." Loki said with a stone-cold finality. "Tell me where he is."

"No."

"The more time passes between now and when the rule is fulfilled, the more I get to demand from you." Loki let his expression darken, let his seðir weigh down the clearing where he'd chosen to meet his old [ex] friend and brother. "Are you willing to take that risk?"

He could _feel_ Woden's hesitation, see the way his frown deepened as Woden scowled over the dilemma.

"Why should I tell you?" Woden asked bitterly. "You killed Baldur."

"There's no proof of that." As long as Loki didn't admit it, Asgard could do nothing. "And he's back now, so why not forget about it?"

" _Forget_ about it?" Woden asked incredulously, not realizing that Loki was repeating his words from their last conversation. "Forget about what happened to Baldur? To _Hodr?_ Never."

"No," Loki said quietly. "It's not so easy to just forget about a son, is it?"

He could see the moment of realization in Woden's eyes, even if his expression immediately hardened again, the All-Father determined to show no weakness.

"The way I see it, this was a favor of sorts," Loki continued, knowing it would rile the god. "One less person to contend for the throne, you know. If Baldur had gotten any ideas over lineage into his head - well, wouldn't want anyone else being killed for regicide, would we? Sibling on sibling can be nasty, and Thor wouldn't want to do anything to his brother."

"Be silent." The words were almost lost due to how hard Woden's teeth were clenched together.

"Tell me where Fenris is."

There was a long pause, neither being backing down, the clearing fraught with tension.

"Thule," Woden spat out finally, and Loki felt mixed relief and nervousness - relief, because now he had _something_ to work with, and nervousness, because there was no way it was going to be as easy as going in there and breaking the chains.

"You know," he called as Woden turned to leave, "Generally, if someone's prophesied to kill you, you don't chain them up and make that the first thing they're going to want to do when they get out."

From the way Woden paused, this had obviously not occurred to him.

"And generally," Loki continued, voice hardening slightly, "If someone's prophesied to end your world, you don't chain up and kill his kids and make him that much more willing to do it."

"You will do _nothing."_ Woden spun back around, his hand clenched around Gungnir, fury coming from him in waves.

"Won't I?" Loki challenged, voice still deadly calm and soft.

"You wouldn't dare."

"I wouldn't have been willing to do a lot of things, but oddly enough, something's changed that." Loki took a step closer.

"Ragnarok is not now." Woden growled. "Nor will it be until you manage to release that wolf."

"Oh, it will come." Loki promised. "For you. And everyone else you've doomed. Your - world - will - fall." He punctuated each bit-out word with another step closer, until he was looming over Woden. "The Norse will end, you will be forgotten, and all your realms and your worshippers will _fade."_

"I will never be forgotten," Woden hissed.

"You will be, if I have to erase the memory of you out of the minds of every human from here to Greece." Gabriel hissed. "You thought you could act with impunity, _well,_ Woden All-Father, your actions have consequences just like anyone else and _all of Asgard will feel them, if I have to tear your city down myself."_

Woden lunged at Loki.

Gungnir was a blur, but Loki was a faster blur, and the blade buried itself in a tree on the opposite end of the clearing while Woden found himself pinned against another one, under a hand that crackled with green magic and facing gold eyes that burned with anger.

There was a moment, fraught with tension, that crackled between them like the lightning that Thor so often brought with him to battles.

Loki dropped him and stepped away, watching Woden stagger and try to balance himself with hooded eyes. "If only for what once was," Loki said, "You live. For now."

Woden glared at him, breath coming heavy and hands curled into fists, but he didn't move to attack Loki a second time. "You're no brother of mine," He spat out, and Loki felt something inside him splinter - the bond that they'd created so long ago.

He let none of the emotions he was feeling show on his face. "I would have said the same," He replied coolly. "For your sake, I hope we never meet again."

* * *

_1200 AD_

It took less than a century for Gabriel's curse to come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well?
> 
> The whole thing with Fenris will be resolved next chapter, since this one is already ridiculously long - but don't worry, I didn't forget him!
> 
> And yeah, this is basically the end of Gabriel's good relationship with the Norse pantheon and the start of him being more the 'Trickster'.
> 
> In any case, read and review, please!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll mainly be continuing straight from where the last chapter ended, aside from the last bit about Gabriel's curse coming true. Fenris as been stuck chained up for some time now, but Gabriel unfortunately won't be able to get him out immediately.
> 
> You'll see what happens.
> 
> I keep getting so frustrated because I'm writing interactions that are supposed to take place in a different language, but it doesn't sound like a different language because I have no idea what the grammar structures are so I can't even hint at it.
> 
> This is ridiculous. Bear with me if everyone sounds like they're just speaking English and not the conversation being translated into English.

* * *

_1135 AD_

_Thule_

_Underground caverns_

Loki's dread grew with each step he took downwards. Fenris had been trapped down here for decades - chained down here, if his information was right. There was no telling what state he might be in.

Or if he'd even recognize Loki.

The staircase Loki was walking down was more of a rockfall with convenient footholds, which was likely only there because Woden had needed a way to get in and out without giving Fenris a literal staircase, in case he ever did break the bonds.

Given that it had been near half a century since his original imprisonment, the odds of that were looking lower and lower, but no one had ever tried to factor Loki into the equation.

And even if they had, they thought only of Loki, not the one with the _real_ power at his disposal.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs meant that Loki was shrouded in darkness. He was too far below the surface of the island for any light to reach down, and even if some _had_ gotten past the entrance the rockfall had too many twists and turns that blocked it from reaching the bottom.

Loki didn't know what was waiting for him.

Fenris was down there, he knew that, but beyond him...Loki didn't know what had been done to him, and Fenris had been down here a long time, long even for a god.

There was no telling what state he might be in.

There was another noise in the blackness, and while Loki's eyes automatically adjusted he only let himself make out vague shapes in the blackness.

He wasn't sure he wanted to see what had happened to Fenris.

A growl permeated the air, and a faint scratching sound of nails on stone caught Loki's attention.

"Fenris?" He asked quietly, the name loud even though it was really a whisper, and the growl stopped.

Loki waited with bated breath.

Swallowing, Loki walked forward into the darkness. It smelled about as nice as you'd expect a cave to smell, and there was something trickling over the ground - down here must be the source of the stream that Loki had seen on the surface, although he wondered why Woden had bothered to lock Fenris somewhere with a water source.

Something crunched under his foot, and Loki looked down to see the dim gleam of bones. He didn't look down again, but somewhere in the vengeful part of him there was a surge of smug pleasure at the thought that Fenris might have managed to take one of the Æsir down with him.

"Fenris?" He asked again, and got an answering whine that came from somewhere near his feet. Loki cautiously bent down, feeling something furry nudge against his toes and jerk back.

"Hey, hey, it's me," he said, slowly and quietly in an attempt not to freak the latter out. "Fenris? I'm going to get you out. Do you understand?"

Silence, except for a snuffling noise, and then the furry thing came back into contact. Loki reached down and discovered that it was Fenris's head. Odd...his mouth was open for some reason - Loki could feel the teeth.

He went a little further, and found the hilt of a sword.

Loki stopped, closed his eyes, and counted slowly in an attempt not to explode with rage and undo all the good work he'd put into finding Fenris and releasing him.

"I'm going to make it a little lighter in here, okay?" Fenris only made another whining noise in reply, so Loki took that as a yes. He let his hand fill with light gradually, stopping whenever Fenris whimpered to let the wolf get used to the light after spending twenty-five years in such a dark place.

Once the light was bright enough [no brighter than a candle] Loki was able to see that yes, someone had _jammed Fenris's mouth open with a sword._

He. Was going. To _murder_ them.

Loki laid a hand on the hilt lightly, seeing Fenris's eyes tracking his movements. "I'm going to try and take this out," He said quietly, not bothering to conceal the waver in his voice. "I need you to stay still, alright?"

Fenris nodded. Loki took a deep breath. The sword had cut deeply into Fenris's mouth, but it was nothing he couldn't heal - as long as he god rid of the sword.

This was going to be painful.

Loki winced every time the sword moved - he could _see_ that it was hurting Fenris, but it needed to come out, and he was being as careful as he could. It was a relief when he managed to pry it out and vanish it, Fenris letting his mouth fall closed with a long whine and Loki shushing him and trying to reassure him, moving one hand to his forehead and healing the cuts in an instant.

They were so old it took longer than it should have to fix, but Fenris relaxed minutely once Loki did and shoved his head into Loki's lap, nevermind that his head was bigger than Loki's torso.

Loki wrapped his arms around Fenris anyway. "You're gonna be fine," He promised, and damnit, his voice did _not_ crack. "Alright?"

"Missed you." Fenris's voice was raspy from disuse and Loki ran a quick hand over his throat, knowing that it was probably painful.

"I'm sorry," He whispered into grey fur. "I couldn't find you."

"Not your fault."

"It _is._ I'm your father." It was the first time Loki had ever actually said it out loud. He hugged Fenris more securely to himself, acknowledging it fully. They were his children, and if anyone fucked with them then he'd show them the consequences. "And I'm going to get you out of here."

"How?" Fenris sounded resigned. "I can't break it."

"Let me see." Fenris shifted and Loki moved down so he could see what had Fenris trapped. It didn't look particularly strong - from what Loki could see, it wasn't very thick, but it was pressed so tightly into Fenris's skin that the fur had worn away. There were no rune carvings Loki could vanish, just a ribbon - perhaps a literal ribbon - of an indeterminable substance, tied so that Fenris could move nothing but his head.

Loki laid his hands to it, trying to figure out what the ribbon was made of. Once he knew he could break it...but it was difficult to pin down, as if...

 _Damn_ the dwarves. There was no way anyone else had made this. Loki swore and put his hands on his knees, clenching them and looking down.

"See?" Fenris said. Loki hated the despairing note in his voice.

"Damnit, I'm not leaving you here." Loki growled. "I'll figure something out." Maybe if he could just _move_ the links of the chain-

The metal, or whatever the hell it was, moved easily once Gabriel figured out _how_ to move it around, reluctantly using his Grace to do so. He moved it so that it wound up and down Fenris's legs and ankles, still 'restricting' him but allowing freedom of movement. He watched anxiously as Fenris attempted to stand on shaky legs - in an ironic twist, the material acted as a brace, since Fenris hadn't stood properly since he'd been forced down here.

Loki ran a soothing hand over him as Fenris stretched, eyes slipping shut. Where the ribbon had been before was still marked by fur-less skin, but that was easy enough to fix now that there was nothing covering it anymore, and Fenris cocked his head towards Loki in gratitude, huffing a breath into his shoulder.

"I thought I would never leave."

Loki tried to smile, and wound both arms [he needed both] around Fenris's neck. "You've got me. Always remember that."

* * *

When Hel saw Fenris again, her living face crumpled and she threw herself at him in a rare fit of emotion.

"How did you _do_ it?" She gasped, burying herself in Fenris's fur in what counted as a hug when your brother was at least eight times your size.

"Magic," Loki replied, grinning - Hel's excitement was contagious. "And a lot of luck. A few loopholes."

Hel made an indeterminable sound into the scruff of Fenris's neck [the only reason she could reach it was because he'd lain down when they first got to their meeting-place between realms] and her hand reached down, trailing over the ribbons of metal twined around his front legs. "And this?"

"Temporary," Loki assured her, his voice unconsciously hardening. "As long as I have anything to say about it."

"Good," Hel said fiercely, standing up and some of her usual demeanor returning. One of her hands remained on Fenris, living fingers curled in his fur "I'm glad you're alright," Hel said softly, and Loki was reminded that they had been siblings long before he'd been their father.

* * *

It was almost guaranteed that Slepnir already knew of his brother's escape, close as he was to Woden [and by choice, so Loki respected that, whether he liked it or not] so Jormungand was the last to find out.

Mostly because he was hardest to get to, but in Helheim, you could look however you wanted to and there was no need to worry about an enormous serpent when he looked completely human.

And it wasn't like Helheim posed any danger to them, when they could all walk right back out again with Hel's full permission.

"You're _out,_ you're out, you're alright-" Jormungand had so far refused to let go of Fenris, and had spoken the most Loki had ever heard him say in one go. "You _are_ alright, right?"

"Yes," Fenris growled, light tone offsetting any sting in the words. He leaned more heavily on Jormungand, making the latter stumble and sit down abruptly to keep his balance. "You're soaking wet, you know."

Jormungand was, but he still hadn't let go of Fenris. "I don't care," He said stubbornly, and Fenris huffed but didn't complain anymore.

"What about Gleipnir?" Hel swept into the hall, down from her throne, and Fenris growled deep in his throat at the name of the thing that still [technically] bound him. Jormungand glanced down at the metallic ribbon, then up at Loki.

"I can't break it," Loki admitted. "Not now. I don't know what it's made of."

Fenris growled again. "They didn't bother to tell me." No one asked who _they_ were - the three of them could guess easily enough.

"Dwarves made it, I can tell that much," Loki continued, and Jormungand winced, hiding it behind one arm as he put his head down on Fenris's back. Hel remained impassive, her default demeanor, but Loki knew that the pronouncement must have affected her.

"Which means this is going to be difficult," She finished for him, hand tightening around her staff. Loki wasn't sure when she'd started carrying it around, but it certainly did well for creating an ominous appearance.

"Is there a way to tell what it's made out of?" Jormungand asked, raising his head.

"I can try," Loki said, but he knew that none of them believed he'd be able to do it. "Give me some time," he added, unconvincingly, and Fenris huffed again and rested his head on his paws.

"I don't mind staying like this," He said [and Loki could hear the note of melancholy in his voice]. "As long as I can move around like I used to be able to do."

There was a beat of silence during which none of them were sure what to say.

"I'm still going to try," Loki said with a sure finality, because there was no way he was going to leave Fenris like this if he could help it, and both Hel and Jormungand nodded.

"First, though," Hel said with what could easily be described as a predatory gleam in her eye, "I believe we have some business with Asgard."

* * *

_1141 AD_

Loki didn't go to any of his old friends or even distant acquaintances for help. Not Hermes, Anansi, or even any other of the myriad Trickster deities littering the globe who he knew would help just to be part of a bit of chaos - although, if it involved toppling someone's base of worship, they might be a little more reluctant unless they really hated the Norse.

In any case, this was his business. It was he who had been slighted in such a fashion, and so it was up to him to finish the job.

He'd wanted to stop the cycle of revenge between him and Woden, but if he was being honest it was only about Vali and Narvi and Baldur. None of them had deserved it. This? Woden deserved.

And besides, if all went to plan - and it would - Woden would have no power left to do anything to him.

They worked slowly, carefully, so that no one noticed their hand in things - if a man with scarred arms and a tendency towards wearing thick furs, or another with almost permanently wet hair and odd yellow eyes, or a woman who wore a mask and carried a staff were seen with alarming frequency over northern Europe in the following years, no one noticed that it was alarming at all.

In fact, no one noticed the frequency, and most forgot they'd ever seen the strangers in the first place.

Medieval Europe was a superstitious place to live, and if anyone did remember, they told themselves they didn't, for to humans the three people exuded an air of confidence and, most obviously, don't-fuck-with-me that instinct told them to _leave, and whatever you do don't look back._

Of course, no one ever saw the fourth being, the one with wheat-blond hair and gold eyes, because the most dangerous enemy is the one you never see coming.

Really, they were only finishing what had started long ago - Christianity had taken root in the Scandanavian countries long ago, and it wasn't difficult to push here, persuade there, until very few who still worshipped Woden All-Father remained.

And, of course, with all the Viking raiding and pillaging going on for centuries, their religion wasn't very popular now that their power was fading and they couldn't force it on people anymore. They'd lost their hold on England with the succession crisis a few decades earlier - Gabriel was just making sure that they never reclaimed it.

It was easier than any of them had thought it would be, but then again, they hadn't been bothered much by the Norman religion loosing its grip of faith on the people.

Creatures of chaos could use more than belief for power.

* * *

_1206 AD_

_Southern Greece_

If you had asked Gabriel, the Crusades were a bloody and entirely pointless mess [no one seemed to be thinking about the fact that they weren't reclaiming Jerusalem, since they'd never had it in the first place, or how the Jews they were killing along the way worshipped the same God they did] but then again Gabriel was the one who had business in Heaven, and right now he was most definitely Loki.

So no one asked Gabriel, because Gabriel wasn't around to ask, and in his place Loki cheerfully drew from the chaos the Crusaders left in their wake and stirred up trouble among overly-superstitious villages, the occupants of which at one point _actually_ tried to exorcise him, which was so pathetic it was kind of hilarious.

Among other things, of course, was gleefully watching the Norse pantheon deteriorate further, but one thing Loki hadn't expected was to be confronted about it.

"I'm honestly curious. What did Woden _do?"_ Hermes wasn't the last person Loki would have expected to run into, seeing as this _was_ Greece, but he certainly wasn't expecting it.

"None of your business," He retorted. "Whatever I do in my pantheon has nothing to do with you."

"You mean like destroying it?" Hermes snorted. "Remind me to never piss you off."

Loki just smiled. He didn't say anything about Hermes being his friend, because both of them knew that if the Greek tried to do anything to his children like Odin had, Loki wouldn't hesitate to do the same.

Or at least something of the same level of destruction, since the Greeks had already kind of faded.

"What brings you to Greece, anyway? You never spend time near the Mediterranean."

"Correction." Loki held up one finger. "I never spent time near the Mediterranean because I had ties to a northern pantheon and spent all my time up there. Now, no such problem exists."

Hermes rolled his eyes. "And exactly how much time are you planning to spend here?"

"I'm making it up as I go," Loki informed him cheerfully. "I have no idea."

Hermes sighed. "Fantastic," He muttered.

"Just think of the damage two tricksters could do," Loki reminded him.

"You know I'm not a trickster."

"You're the patron god of thieves. What's the difference?"

"There's a big difference between being patron of thieves and _being_ a thief."

"Hermes, I'm offended. Since when have I been a thief?"

* * *

_1296 AD_

_Northern Africa_

_Near the Sahara_

No offense to Hermes [and quite a lot of offense to the other Olympians] but Greece was _boring_ in the thirteenth century.

That, and there had been a small incident involving a few nymphs, ambrosia, Hercules' incredibly fragile ego, and the fact that Zeus could not take a joke.

But that had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Loki had hurriedly booked it south around the turn of the decade.

Nope.

Nothing to do with that.

It did, however, have everything to do with the fact that Hera was really quite terrifying when she was angry and Loki did _not_ feel like becoming another outlet for her frustration at her husband's continued infidelity. So, northern Africa it was.

Except the north was boring too, and mostly desert, so Loki kept going south and ended up in the West, where there was a very familiar lake that had once hosted a Garden that he knew absolutely nothing about because he wasn't Gabriel, not anymore.

So then he went north again, because why not give it another try and hey, camels could be pretty entertaining when you gave them the right push, and ended up in Mali.

Which honestly, wasn't that bad.

They were still extending their power, the current ruler seeking to exert his control over even vaster regions, though wisely not going north and ending up in the desert. Loki was partially tempted to track down Anansi, who was definitely in the area, but he eventually discarded the idea. Anansi wasn't that close a friend, awnyay - they'd only met all of two times - and he didn't want to attract the attention of the local gods anymore than he had to.

Gods could be quite territorial, after all.

He didn't even know how many different tribe's gods might have been absorbed into the Mali empire, or how many conflicting cultures had been brought together under a shared name - the north end of the continent alone had too many to count. Well, too many to count easily. If someone really dedicated and actually interested in doing so tried they could probably manage it, but Loki was not that person.

He was, however, the kind of person who liked to explore new things, and so Loki set off with a grin and the determination to see what Mali had to offer him.

* * *

_1323 AD_

_Various places in the northern half of the African continent_

_Boring._

Loki's path meandered through Mali, across stretches of desert no sane human would try and walk through [admittedly, he transported himself over most of it, but it was always entertaining when he ran into the occasional gobsmacked merchant] and through eastern Africa, eventually down into Maasai land.

"Who are you?"

There were two children peering around a tree at him - well, one of them was. The other one was standing next to it, feet planted in the ground and spear held at one side. He was the one who had spoken, in a regional dialect that Loki had to take a moment to find the right words in.

"No one," Loki replied, smiling at the boy. "Just passing through."

The boy scowled at him, but the other one tugged at his clothing. "Come _on,"_ she said, the edge of a whine in her voice. "We're going to loose the honeyguide."

Loki raised one eyebrow. "Honeyguide?"

The boy raised an eyebrow back. "You don't know who honeyguide is?" He asked, clearly skeptical that anyone could not know of...whatever he was talking about.

"Don't talk to him," The girl hissed. "He might be an invader. Look at his _skin."_

There was a pause, during which both children regarded him warily and Loki stared back, equally intensely.

"I'm not trying to invade you," Loki informed them. "And I'm not an evil spirit, either."

"You'd say that if you were an evil spirit," The girl replied suspiciously.

"Probably," Loki admitted. "But I'm not."

A bird whistled above them and both the kid's heads shot up. The girl took off, whistling back and following the bird, eyes tracing its flight between the trees over their head. The boy, after a moment of deliberation between her and Loki, followed.

Loki laughed to himself, watching them follow the bird. "Ah. Honeyguide." It must have been the bird's name - although why they would follow a bird for honey when they could find it on their own was beyond him.

Ah, well. Humans. No one had ever said they made sense.

* * *

_1341 AD_

_Southern India_

Loki had skipped the Middle East entirely, deciding that it would probably be no better than Mali, and the last thing he'd expected to encounter was an entire continent full of lights.

Candles were absolutely _everywhere._ On windowsills, lining doorways, even lanterns hung on strings and crisscrossing from rooftop to rooftop over the street. The people all wore loose and long clothing, with the women dressed with scarves that draped over their hair and was held in place with elaborately done jewelry, or in the case of the poorer ones they simple had a red spot marked between their eyebrows.

Many places featured shrines devoted to a woman with many arms, decorated with lotus petals and the area around the statue scattered with offerings. Loki saw stalls offering food or, more popularly, dice games for humans to gamble their money away on. These were the ones that were crowded with people, playing or watching the players and cheering on the ones they liked.

The streets were crowded with people as well, though not so thickly that Loki couldn't slip past unnoticed.

Unnoticed, at least, by the humans.

"Well, well. What's someone like you doing here?" The woman was wearing a red dress, and Loki only noticed her when she started walking next to him.

He laughed. "Can't another god enjoy your festival as well?" He asked her in Hindi, the same language she'd spoken in. That had to be what it was - if it wasn't a festival, then there would be no reason for so many people to be out on the streets at night.

" _My_ festival," The goddess repeated, stressing it. "We don't get many visitors from other pantheons."

"I don't usually find myself in India." Loki turned to her. "Tell me, what is this festival for?"

The goddess didn't smile. A thunderous noise made several people jump, and the crowd turned as one to see explosions lighting the sky in an array of color, drawing cheers from some of them and a few ripples of clapping and laughter. Several people shouted blessings - to their gods, to 'Lakshimi', their heaven, that they might do well in the new year.

"Ah," Loki said, overhearing the last one. "It's your New Year."

"Not yet," the goddess replied. "It's only Amavasya, after all. There are still two more days left in Diwali."

"Two more days of celebrating means more reason to stick around, then." Loki grinned at her, but the goddess remained stony. "I'll try not to steal any of your worshippers."

"As if you could."

Another round of fireworks went off, so many at once that it was almost blinding. When the noise and riot of color finally calmed, the goddess was gone.

Loki shook his head, smiled, and kept walking. India was shaping up to be much more interesting already.

* * *

_Still India_

_Kartika Shudda Padyami - Third Day of Diwali_

The next day the festival felt darker than the last night's festivities, and Loki was on edge through most of them - though the Indian wine certainly helped take the edge off.

The shadows were deeper, the night came quicker, and Loki noticed it all, even if he was acting like just another drunken reveler, although one not particularly invested in the faith that had created the holiday, if anyone had bothered to look closely and notice that he avoided the shrines or areas of prayer.

It was fairly early in the evening when a deep chuckle stopped Loki in his tracks, drawing his attention to a gap between two buildings where a man stood, partly in shadow.

"I'd heard we had a visitor, but I didn't think it would be one of you," he said lightly. "What is a northern god doing so far in the south?"

"Avoiding the rest of my pantheon," Loki answered honestly.

"The story behind that must be a good one." The god did not make a move to step forward. When Loki looked closer, he began to doubt that the man was a god at all.

"What are you, then?" Loki asked him warily. "A spirit, or someone under the delightful woman from yesterday?"

"None of the above." The god sounded amused. "Today is my day, and I wished to use the one day I have on Bhu Loka to see who Kali was so interested in."

"Where do you usually stay?"

"Below." The god answered cryptically.

"You would be the Bali who is so popularly mentioned." Loki guessed. Despite avoiding more religious areas, he did pay attention.

"You would be right." Bali replied. "Every year, however, some of my subjects follow me up here, so I must stay away from the festivals and keep them quiet."

"The shadows are yours, then."

"Yes. The disadvantages to ruling one of the lokas of Patala." Loki had no idea what a loka was, but he could guess that Patala was the Hindu underworld - that much, at least, was obvious.

"So you get one day on Earth a year? Bad luck."

"Oh, it's not so bad. When you lose to a god, what can you do, really? I was lucky that he decided to grant me a boon in exchange."

"What did you do before being sent down there?"

"I was a king," Bali said proudly.

"Demotion or promotion, huh?" Loki smirked. "What are you talking to me for? Go find your subjects. I'm sure they're wreaking havoc while I distract you."

"Not so fast. I'd like a name in return. Your real one, preferably, since Bali is my real name." Bali crossed his arms.

Loki tilted his head, making a face as though he were thinking that Bali was rather audacious in asking. "Loki." He acquiesced, spreading his arms as though presenting himself.

"Loki of Asgard?"

Loki smiled tightly. "Of nowhere, at the moment, but I'm surprised you know the name."

Bali grinned back at him. "I have heard of you before, Hel's-Father." The shadows bent around him and pulled him away from the light, leaving Loki staring at nothing.

He wasn't even surprised, really. The deities of the dead always knew one another on sight.

* * *

_Yama Dvitiya - Fourth Day of Diwali_

The first thing Loki noticed about this holiday was that there were far, far more women out and about than on the previous two days.

Of course, that might have been related to the lore behind the day itself, but Loki still couldn't be bothered to ask around and figure out what the lore actually was. He had better things to do. Like participating in the looser areas of the festival.

The reappearance of the woman - Kali - made him rethink his plans. Temporarily.

Loki narrowed his eyes and looked closer, when he saw her standing on the other side of the street. She was smiling, for one, and her dress - sari, was it called here? - was a different color. Similar, but...something lighter. More blue than red alone.

"You're not Kali." He leaned on the wall of the house the woman was standing in front of, and she laughed lightly at him. He was beginning to notice a pattern here, but so far both of the deities he'd met had been genuinely amused and not mocking him.

"How astute." She smiled. "And you remember me, and have learned my other name."

"Other name?"

"Kali is me, but I am not Kali."

Loki's mouth twitched into a grin at the riddling talk. "Are you the same person I met the day before?"

"In a sense."

"What's your name, then?"

"Parvati." She looked at him in curiosity. "Bali didn't see fit to share what brought you down here."

"I didn't tell him."

"Hm." Parvati was warmer than Kali, more open, and her emotions were easy to read. Loki's statement had made her thoughtful. "You're staying."

"If I feel like it." Loki shrugged. "But yes, unless I find a reason to leave."

A slow smile curved Parvati's face. "Then," She replied, "It seems we will have to learn how to live with each other."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well?
> 
> I feel like the only reason Gabriel/Loki and Kali knew each other would be if he somehow ended up in India, so I had to get him over there at some point. For those wondering about the scene with the two Maasai kids, 'honeyguide' is a type of bird that apparently will show you the way to a beehive for honey as long as you give the bird some of the honeycomb.
> 
> Read and review, please!


	11. India, AKA Bhu-Loka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will mostly be the India/Kali arc in the beginning, but I've still got some thinking to do about their relationship. My personal headcanon for Gabriel is pansexual/aromantic, so I have to figure out how he might end up with Kali. And then Kali herself is a very destructive goddess, so it's all very complicated.
> 
> Personally, from what little we saw of them onscreen, I don't think either of them ever really loved the other. Kali was not above killing him [she didn't love him, but she liked him enough to be sorry that she 'had' to do it] and Gabriel is not above taking advantage of whatever feelings he thinks might remain to get what he wants - in the case of that particular episode, the Winchester's blood.
> 
> In any case, I'll have fun weaving this all together. Hopefully you guys will have fun reading it, too.
> 
> [Also: Implied sex in a few parts of the chapter, but nothing explicit, I swear.]
> 
> There's a bit of a twist in the middle of the chapter that I doubt any of you saw coming...I'm sure you'll have a few things to say about that. *laughs evilly* Anyway, enjoy!

_1345 AD  
_

Paravti and Kali were a puzzle that even Loki was having trouble deciphering, but he was willing to take the time to figure it out.

She seemed to be amused by his attempts - both versions of her had taken a strange interest in him. In any case, Loki had not yet been run out of India by the local gods, so he was willing to count that as a win.

Still, they confused him.

Parvati was warm - friendly, maybe overly so, to him. She was endlessly patient, smiling and laughing and forever explaining things if she thought she saw the slightest hint of him not understanding something, whether it be local customs or why one god disliked the other.

The latter was usually quite interesting, since Parvati was an enormous gossip.

And married, but, semantics. And Kali most certainly wasn't, which had nearly given Loki a headache trying to understand [if he'd been able to get things like headaches, anyway].

Shiva, Parvati's husband, didn't seem bothered by it. It must have been an Indian thing. Loki doubted that the god genuinely liked him, but he did at least tolerate Loki's presence and never accused him of doing anything untoward towards his wife - either he was a surprisingly non-territorial god [unlikely] or he was just glad that someone else was there to deal with Kali.

And Kali, more often than not, did need dealing with.

Kali was _bloody,_ anger and fire and everything else that was pure destruction wrapped into the form of a woman who, unless she felt the rare urge to blend in, had at least four arms. She was death to anything that annoyed her - and yet, could be strangely soft, and never touched a single human.

There was something else going on with her, something to do with how they would pick and choose humans and send them off again into the world after they died, but Loki preferred not to pry into that. The inner machinations of the Hindu deities weren't his business - he could respect that, even if he was curious, because he knew how gods worked.

Even if he didn't like it.

* * *

"Where have you been, then?"

"What business is it of yours?" She was Kali now, hooded eyes and careful gaze on Loki.

"Can't I be curious?" Loki asked back, raising one eyebrow. "Maybe I'm attempting to figure out where it is that you gods go when you're not down here."

"So it _isn't_ your business, then." Kali swept past him disinterestedly, seating herself on the balcony of the room they were in. "What a surprise."

Loki was unperturbed by her cold attitude. "I bet you could make it my business." He replied breezily, leaning against the doorway that led out to the balcony. "If you really wanted to."

"Do I?" Kali arched an eyebrow at Loki.

"Maybe. I couldn't say." He smirked back. "You like me enough."

Kali didn't seem impressed. "Liking has nothing to do with it," She informed him. Like he didn't already know - not that he was acting like he did. "You may be more comfortable with crossing the lines of different pantheons, but that information is not so lightly given."

"Not even for me?" Loki was pushing it, he knew, but he liked pushing limits - they always resulted in a mess, and what was better than that? Kali would tolerate it - even in just a year Loki knew she liked him, beyond just tolerating him like she'd done when they had first met.

He wouldn't call himself a confidante or anything like that - as if Kali had anything like that, even if Parvati had at least three - but something like a friend, if gods had those this far east.

"No."

Loki frowned. "No hesitation. That's cold, Kali."

A grin curved her mouth. "Very few have said that to my face, you know."

Loki was perfectly aware that he was being threatened. He grinned back, leaning closer. "I'll be happy to join their ranks, then."

Kali's eyes glittered, searching for some answer in Loki. She said nothing, but leaned in as well. "You," She said quietly, meeting his gaze, "Are one for taking risks."

"Risks make messes if they fail." Loki told her. "And I'm one for making messes, as long as they happen to other people."

"I've heard." So she had found what she could on him. Loki wondered what she had thought.

"What have your heard of me?" He asked. "Nothing bad, I hope."

"Nothing that makes me want to force you to leave."

"Ah, so only the good stuff. Lucky me."

"I wouldn't say it's necessarily good." Kali was very close now, but Loki wasn't leaning back. "Your pantheon's not very complimentary of you."

"Not my fault." They were locked in a staring contest now, neither willing to look away. "Forget what the Norse say. What do you think of me?"

"Do you want me to be honest?"

"When are you anything but?"

If _Loki_ was being completely honest, he hadn't expected her to kiss him.

He was still frozen in shock when she pulled away, her gaze still fixed on him. "Does that give you your answer?" She asked.

Had that really just happened? "I believe it does," Loki said slowly.

Kali's broadening grin was her only reply.

* * *

If Loki had to chose one time, he'd say that was the turning point in their relationship. He and Kali had never done anything similar to courtship, but Parvati rarely made an appearance after that, and Kali certainly encouraged his presence with her more than before [which had been not at all].

No regular human would call it a relationship, at least by their standards, but there was a fundamental change - from one thing to another that was something more, and Loki didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he was willing to figure it out if it meant having _someone_ _else._

Even as Loki, he'd never liked being alone.

Kali was company, if occasionally murderous company, and maybe he loved her for that - it was the first time he'd ever been in a serious relationship, even if he pretended otherwise to Kali. He knew the mechanics, knew how _humans_ worked and gods couldn't be that different, even if Kali scoffed and turned her nose up every time he tried to be Romantic.

He wasn't sure if Kali was even interested in romance, or if she was in it for the dirtier parts of it all. Not that Gabriel thought that that was a particularly bad thing, given how they'd gone with her - hell, he could see himself getting used to it. It wasn't his first time [there had been plenty of sacrifices, to Loki, for anything under the sky depending on the human offering, but it depended on his mood at the time whether Loki took it or not].

But that didn't mean that the _only_ thing he did anymore was hang around Kali.

And there were other places in the world besides India.

* * *

_1350 AD_

_Italy_

In Gabriel's defense, he hadn't meant to start the Renaissance.

He hadn't even meant to stop being Loki.

Maybe a more detailed explanation was in order.

" _This is wrong_."

" _Michael hasn't said anything about it_."

Loki froze as soon as he heard the voices speaking - _in Enochian._

Whatever Gabriel was receded immediately, packed tightly into the corners of his vessel - Loki filled him, and he furiously hoped that whoever they were, they _would not notice him._

But...

What was 'wrong'?

Loki was swearing, but Gabriel's curiosity was overpowering - reluctantly, he trailed behind the two angels, never close enough to risk that they might see him and just barely close enough to overhear.

" _Was it meant to last this long?"_

_"Who cares? They're humans. They can stand living like this. It's how they started out, isn't it?"_

_"It doesn't seem right."_

_"Who are you to say?"_ The other angel was sharp, and obviously not at all sympathetic to the plight of the humans. _"If this went against the Plan, Michael would have done something."_

_"If we had the Horn-"_

_"Only Gabriel can use that."_ The sound of his name in Enochian was a shock after so many years of being Loki. _"And they won't come down for something as little as this. Let's go back. I can't stand Earth for any longer."_

Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief as the presence of the two angels vanished. He squashed the strange emptiness that welled in his Grace, leaning back against a wall to consider what he'd heard.

Angels were getting bent out of shape over the humans.

More importantly, they didn't know he was gone.

Gabriel's face creased into a scowl - of _course_ Michael would have hidden that too - the news that one of the _archangels_ was missing would have caused a stir, and that was unthinkable in Michael's Heaven. Briefly, he wondered if Raphael knew, and then told himself he didn't care.

He let himself drift to the topic of the humans. They didn't seem to badly off to _him._ Sure, most of them lived in what could easily be called squalor, and died early, and a few of them basically enslaved the others in the surrounding area in exchange for giving them a place to shelter...

Okay, maybe it _was_ bad.

Neither Gabriel nor Loki had paid much attention to the humans, aside from when they occasionally walked among them, but they were supposed to survive anything, right? They'd been created with the intention that they'd stick around for a while. This little period of complete ignorance would pass.

...Right?

Gabriel hadn't fully realized how much damage the collapse of the Roman Empire had done, but apparently the Romans had taken their knowledge down with them. He'd heard there had been a library in what was now called Alexandria, but he'd never been in the area [as Loki, at least] and anyways some Greek conqueror had burned it down ages ago. There wasn't much that could be done for the humans.

Unless he _did_ use the Horn.

Gabriel shook his head, trying to clear it of the _absolutely ridiculous_ idea. He'd spent _how_ many years avoiding angels - angels and anything that had the remotest connection to them! And now here he was, _actually_ considering doing something that would be in clear sight of Heaven

For the _humans?_

They were fine, Gabriel told himself. They'd pick themselves up eventually.

If only he was half as good at convincing himself as he was convincing humans to do something stupid.

Gabriel swore, pressing his hands to his face as if that would help. "This is a horrible idea," he muttered, but he was already stretching out his awareness, trying to find a place crowded with humans so it would be harder to find him among the mess of souls, where he could leave quickly and lose himself in the mess of humanity-

He was going to regret this, he knew it.

* * *

The Horn was never meant to signal the Apocalypse like some humans thought, just an End - which, of course, meant the Beginning of something else.

Gabriel didn't need to do anything to retrieve his Horn - it appeared with a thought, since it was his and his alone, not Heaven's. He'd chosen Florence, since it seemed like as good a place as any and was the most crowded city within a hundred miles of where he'd been before.

The Heavenly weapon - and it _was_ a weapon, in a way - was smooth against his hand and Gabriel breathed in deeply, completely ignored by the passers-by. He'd made sure none of them would notice him, but that would splinter the moment he did this - and he'd have to be _gone._

Before he could change his mind, Gabriel raised the Horn to his lips.

The sound echoed like nothing human could, the humans in the city stopped, all looking around to see where it had come from, and Gabriel fled.

* * *

It took about an hour for Florence to be completely overrun with angels - not that the humans knew it - and by then Gabriel was somewhere in the Middle East, not daring to go back to India in case he'd been followed, but he had to be somewhere where they wouldn't find him-

His hopes were dashed as soon as he noticed _Raphael_ prowling around.

There was no doubt about it - the other archangel was on his trail. There was no other reason Raphael would be on Earth, not so close to Gabriel, but how had they followed him-?

Gabriel didn't have time for questions.

He was halfway through Russia before Raphael caught up.

Gabriel's only warning was the feel of his sibling's Grace pressing in before he was thrown off his feet. He was in the middle of a Siberian forest, but the cold didn't bother either of them. Raphael's vessel was dark-skinned, their expression thunderous.

"Gabriel." They spoke in Arabic, probably their vessel's native language, and Gabriel winced at the raw fury in their voice.

"Raphael," He gasped back, picking himself off the ground and out of about three feet of snow. It had melted in a circle around Raphael, and the grass underneath was soggy and dead. Gabriel scrambled back as his sibling approached, flinching back as Raphael picked him up by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a tree. The pine shuddered under the force of it, but that was the last thing on Gabriel's mind.

"I don't suppose you'd just let me go," He said weakly, aware that Raphael was one of the last people who would agree to that.

Raphael's hands tightened in Gabriel's tunic. "You have been _here,"_ They seethed, "The _whole time?"_

"Here, as in this forest specifically?" Gabriel's hands flew up in surrender as Raphael's eyes narrowed. "Okay. Okay. Bad question. Um. Yes?"

"You would chose Earth over your home?" Raphael seemed incredulous - as well as still angry, unfortunately for Gabriel. "Why?"

"I had to." Gabriel tried pulling Raphael's hands away, but his sibling was stronger than he was. "You saw what Michael was doing."

"And so you decided to abandon us?" That hurt, especially coming from Raphael.

"I wasn't abandoning you," Gabriel protested, but it was a weak defense - he had, in a way, forsaken Heaven. "I couldn't stand it, Raphael."

"Stand what?"

"What they were _doing."_ Couldn't Raphael _see?_ "You know it wasn't - we weren't meant to _be_ like this, Raphael. Not just mindless creations."

"We were created to serve our Parent." Raphael's eyes were steely cold. "If you have forgotten that-"

"He's _gone!"_ Gabriel snapped. "There's no one left for us to serve! Michael doesn't know _what_ they're doing-"

"Be silent," Raphael hissed, pressing harder and making it difficult for Gabriel to breathe. "I thought you _dead,_ Gabriel. And now I find you here and see that you hid yourself away for your own selfish reasons-"

"Selfish?" Gabriel snapped. "Oh, yes, it was _very_ selfish of me to not want to see any more of what we'd become-"

"Heaven is _fine."_

"You can say that however much you want, it won't change anything." Gabriel tried to wiggle out from under Raphael's grip, but the latter jerked him up again. "How many angels were cast down?" Gabriel asked raggedly. "How many did Michael decide _weren't worthy?_ How many, Raphael?"

"Enough!" Raphael's shout caused some of the snow on higher branches to fall, the forest itself shivering. They stepped away, letting Gabriel fall and catch himself before he ended up sprawled on the ground again.

"You would leave us two alone," Raphael said evenly, their anger restrained but clear.

"There's more than just two of you," Gabriel retorted. "Michael doesn't need another archangel to order around."

Raphael's lip curled. "Fine," They spat. "Stay here, then. What do I care if you desert us?"

Gabriel tensed at the accusation, looking down. He'd left for a reason, he reminded himself furiously. He wasn't going to bend to Raphael's attempt to get him to return. "At least I'm not blindly following orders anymore." He bit out.

"You would _not_ be." Raphael insisted. "You are an _archangel._ Our Parent's Messenger-"

"Right." Gabriel said tightly. "Like I'm going to get any more messages to deliver."

"Whatever our Parent is doing is of no matter," Raphael growled. "You are meant to _lead,_ Gabriel."

"I am!" Gabriel burst out. "I'm leading _myself!_ I've spent seven hundred years leading myself, and I'm fine with it! I'm _not_ going back, Raphael!"

Raphael looked taken aback at his insistence, but that was wiped away by a scowl. Gabriel backed up, not willing to fight and hoping it wouldn't come to that. "I'm not going back," He repeated. "And you can't make me."

That seemed to honestly surprise Raphael. " _Make_ you?" They repeated. "I had no intention of dragging you back home."

The tension bled out of Gabriel, and he was sure his sibling could see it. "Heaven," Gabriel said, slowly and stiffly, "Hasn't been my home for a long time."

He could see Raphael stiffen, eyes flashing, see the aborted movement towards him, and Gabriel knew that Raphael saw him flinch backwards at the sudden angry pulse of Grace.

Raphael paused, drew themselves up straight, and looked down at Gabriel with hooded eyes. "I see."

Gabriel stared back, refusing to show his sibling weakness, but Raphael didn't say anything else. Their wings spread and carried them away, and Gabriel sat down on the still-damp grass and put his head in his hands.

He wished it had never had to come to this.

* * *

_1371 AD_

_India, Again_

Angels worked slowly - Gabriel knew that - so it was a while before he risked going back to Kali.

Once he was sure no one else was coming after him.

"You took your time." Kali was angry too - it wasn't as easy to see in her, but Loki had learned the signs. He paused before going closer, grinning hesitantly.

"An issue came up." Well, it wasn't a lie. "I didn't want anyone coming back here with me."

Kali's gaze was cold when it landed on him. "Perhaps you have friends you don't want me to meet?"

"Not friends," Loki said quickly. "Not in the least."

She didn't look like she believed him. "I don't suppose you went by Italy recently."

"Not for long." Also not a lie, but Loki was beginning to wonder what Kali was getting at. Had she gone looking for him?

If she knew about Gabriel...

"And you noticed that they're having quite the cultural revolution over there." Kali stood up in one smooth movement, her sari draped artfully over her. "Angels have been stirring."

"And you've hit upon my reason for leaving so early." Loki watched Kali as she moved around the room, not looking back at him.

"You dislike angels?"

"Doesn't everyone?" Loki didn't twitch as Kali appeared in front of him, so that they were nose to nose. "They did nearly destroy my pantheon, after all," He continued nonchalantly, as if a goddess of death wasn't standing an inch away.

"So I've heard." Kali was fishing for something, and Loki thought he knew what it was. He also knew that he wasn't willing to give it.

Kali's hand rose to linger on his chest, right over his heart. Kali could push through his chest and kill his vessel in an instant [if the original Loki ad still been alive, that was], but her hand rested lightly, nails pressing into him with only a bit of pressure.

It was, of course, a threat.

She knew he was leaving something unsaid.

"I think what you're looking for is a littler farther south." Loki said. What was left unsaid would stay unsaid.

Kali didn't laugh, but her hand dropped nonetheless. "Perhaps."

* * *

_1376 AD_

_Spring_

Loki walked out into the streets without looking and nearly got a faceful of green powder for the moment of inattentiveness.

He ducked back, the chalky mixture settling on his tunic instead. A gaggle of children ran by - the obvious culprits, as the lead girl's hands were stained green. In fact, all of them were stained various colors, from red to some mixture of yellow and purple that had turned out nearly black. The same chalky powder was everywhere, in tubs and lined up in neat canisters along the street.

Loki was fairly sure that he was missing some vital piece of information, because the scene wasn't making any sense.

"Having fun?" The goddess appeared at his shoulder silently, but Loki had grown to used to her sudden appearances to be startled.

"What-" He stopped as he turned to face her fully. "Parvati?"

Parvati beamed at him. "I've been neglecting Shiva," She said cheerfully. "You can stand one day without me, Loki. It's Holi!" Before he could reply, she flung a handful of blue powder at him, laughing lightly.

Loki grimaced and wiped his face as it settled over his head. Parvati had already vanished through the door and he still had no idea what Holi was, but looking at the powder on his fingers, he rubbed them together thoughtfully and then brushed the blue off.

This could be fun.

* * *

Holi, Loki decided, was the best idea for a festival he'd ever heard.

What must have been everyone in the city was outside, and there wasn't a single surface not coated in at least three colors - people and people-shaped beings included. Loki was blue and red and yellow and whatever came in between as they mixed and mingled together, staining his clothes and skin but Loki didn't care.

No one minded the stranger in their midst, too caught up in their happiness and fun to notice a light-skinned man among them, throwing color and tripping people as they ran and laughing, not a single bit of power getting in his mouth.

If he caught a glimpse of other people-shaped beings in the crowd, Loki didn't call them out, and they in turn ignored him.

"Hey, run!"

Loki was caught up in a gaggle of children - they were young, especially compared to him, but they were also human and that meant work. Taking advantage of the one day, running and laughing, getting into trouble and getting their way out of it somehow - all of it flashed by from their minds to his in an instant and Loki grinned, blending in amongst them and filling his hands with powder the color of a sunset from a bowl one of them was holding.

He'd always liked trouble.

None of them minded that at least half of what they carried ended up on them, and not other people.

He was still with them, gathered in a small courtyard, coated in color and laughing, when Parvati returned.

"You've been having fun." She was still immaculately clean, smiling down at Loki in a way that made him sure she was still Parvati. The others looked up, curiosity and some wondering how they hadn't noticed him.

"I thought that was the point of this?" Loki asked, standing up and grinning back. He kissed her cheek when she came close enough, leaving a dusting of blue behind.

Parvati pushed him away playfully, getting her hand dirty as well. "It's a celebration," She told him, "Not an excuse for everything."

"So you say." Neither of them paid any attention to the humans standing no more than a few feet away from them - they might as well not exist, how important could they be? "Are we going back?"

Parvati pursed her lips, tilted her head. "I'll be spending more than just a day with him," She decides, giving Loki a knowing look. Loki wasn't sure what she thought she knew, but it was probably that he had missed her. "You've been monopolizing me."

"Can you blame me?"

Parvati let him take her hand, brush another kiss across it. "Well," She said [reluctantly?], "Maybe you can convince me to stay longer."

"That's all I ask." Loki was already thinking of something good, whirling Parvati [Kali?] away from the surprised group of humans and wondering how to keep her interest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Loki...so entertaining to write, especially with Kali, though I don't think I've quite got the hang of her yet. She's an interesting character to write, but it's hard to write someone when you still don't know what they want.


	12. Reluctant Goodbyes and An Ambush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a lot of swearing later in the chapter. And some messy stuff. I tried not to get too into the details but there's some nasty crap that happens to Loki/Gabriel. So if you're put off by people getting badly hurt and seeing/reading descriptions of it, then avoid the bits after I finish up with the India/Kali arc. Thought I'd let you guys know!

_1393 AD_

_India_

Loki was fairly certain that he'd just about overstayed his welcome with Kali.

It was the little things that clued him in.

Kali hadn't stayed long after Holi, but she had been Parvati for ages - Loki got only short moments with Kali as time dragged itself on, a clear show of where the goddess's preferences lay. Shiva was acting more smug than usual, not that Loki hung out with him much anyway.

Bit awkward, since they were both partners with different aspects of the same goddess.

But Loki didn't _want_ to leave.

He'd really enjoyed India - more than that, he'd been wandering for years before he'd found somewhere new to ground himself, to insert himself into the community and become a part of it. It hadn't worked here as well as it had in the Norse pantheon [they were too old for that, their religion too grounded in centuries of practice to change so easily].

He didn't enjoy being on his own.

* * *

_1401 AD_

"Are you sulking?" Parvati's amused voice startled Loki out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see the goddess seated next to him. He hadn't noticed her arrive, but he hadn't been paying attention.

"Not at all," Loki replied, turning to face her properly.

"You certainly look like it." Parvati said idly. She was smiling, but Parvati was always smiling, as far as Gabriel could tell. Nothing like Kali.

"Maybe I'm just thinking how I haven't seen you in ages."

"I know you'd like to see Kali." Parvati shrugged. "I don't control it, Loki. I prefer being Parvati."

She did _now,_ at least, but Gabriel didn't try to contest it. "When, then?" He asked. "In another century?"

"I can't say when." Parvati sighed. "You _are_ Loki. Perhaps India's not the place for you."

Loki's mouth twisted at the implication that he should go back to Asgard. "They'd hardly welcome me back there."

"I didn't mean leave." Parvati replied. Her smile had been quelled. "You take everything so seriously, Loki. I merely meant that you _are_ a Northern god, and quite far away from-"

"Don't you dare say home," Loki said quietly, and Parvati paused.

"Asgard," she finished. "Like it or not, you _are_ the outsider here."

"You didn't seem so concerned with that half a century ago."

Parvati shrugged. "You were new, and I was surrounded by the old. Of course I was fascinated."

"And what of Kali?"

"I can't say."

"Of course not." Loki considered the benefits of 'borrowing' a bottle from the bar. There was a reason he was there, after all. He settled for taking a drink out of the glass he already had.

He could feel the energy change, the power of the woman next to him shifting, and when he looked over again Kali was staring back and scowling.

"Happy?" Kali snapped. "I'd _hoped_ I wouldn't end up like this. I swear, Loki."

"You swear what?" Loki retorted, not entirely in the mood for being polite to the woman who'd avoided him for decades. "That I'm too curious or something? Apologies if I can't help wondering what I did."

"What _you_ did." Kali scoffed. "As if everything's about you. I was Kali for nigh on a century. And here you are, getting all brokenhearted because suddenly it's the other way around."

"I'm _not,"_ Loki said sharply, and it was true. He didn't feel particularly brokenhearted; just lonely. Kali was, whether he chose to admit it or not, the one god in India that he'd actually known beyond a passing acquaintance. It wasn't like there was anyone else to go to while he waited for her to get tired of Parvati.

The look Kali gave him made it clear she didn't believe him. "You're in a bar, Loki," she said. "As far as I can tell, you've been here for quite a while."

"That's not true." He'd taken breaks. Where else was there to go, anyway? Gods would start getting pissy if he started up with his real potential as a trickster god.

Kali still didn't look convinced. "I stand by what I said earlier."

"What, that I should leave?"

"That maybe you should take a _break._ Go somewhere else and stop wandering around India and pouting." Kali silenced Loki's protest with a sharp glare. "I don't have the patience to deal with you right now, and I don't _want_ to have to constantly do this. Figure it out yourself, Loki." She got up and left, not once looking behind her.

Loki stared after her, slightly sullenly.

He'd gotten her message loud and clear.

* * *

Having no desire to go back west [he'd heard of the Holy Roman Empire, and had no desire to get mixed up in any of _that],_ Loki kept going east.

The only problem with going east was that there was barely anything east of India, except for China and a multitude of boring oceanic countries. There was a particularly large landmass some distance south, but _Loki_ had no way of knowing that, so he pretended he didn't.

Besides, it was full of all the nasty stuff, and even if it couldn't kill him that didn't mean he wanted to be anywhere near it.

So he wandered - here and there, causing a little trouble when the opportunity arose, always staying one step ahead of whoever might be behind him. Humans, as it turned out, had managed to organize into a sort of sub-group that dedicated themselves to eradicating supernatural ne'er-do-wells. Which, more often than not, included Loki.

They were particularly annoying, especially since a disturbing amount of them had actually figured out how to _kill_ pagans. Loki had done his best to stop the information from spreading very far, but it was a little too late to stop them completely.

Besides, they did do _some_ good. Ghosts and the like weren't very malicious, but they did kill people.

Loki only supported that kind of thing if said people deserved it.

Hunters notwithstanding [and Loki still had no idea how they'd managed to escape his notice for so long] Loki still wanted somewhere to _be._

And, like it or not, that path always led back north.

* * *

_Still 1401 AD_

In retrospect, it really had been an idiotic idea.

Loki never should have gone back north.

Asgard was gone, the pantheon crumbled under the grip of the Christians - under what _he'd_ engineered.

But its gods were not as gone as he would have liked.

And they were angry.

Loki lashed out at the first one that approached, sending him flying backwards into a tree. Others burst out of the forest on all sides, how had he not sensed them, how had they gone unnoticed?

He was backed up on the lip of a quarry, balanced on its edge, and if it was a fight they were seeking to pick then Loki would give them one.

Eight against one was hardly fair, but he was hardly an ordinary god.

A sword found its way to his hand. Not his angel blade. He wasn't suicidal. Gods whirled and blades clashed, the rasp of steel on steel loud in the forest. Loki gritted his teeth as someone's blade found its mark on his side. It cut past his clothes and leaving a shallow cut.

It wasn't like it would hurt him. Still-

The one-handed god in front of him brought his sword down heavily. Loki was forced to bring his up to block it. His free hand shot up to balance the blade. Magic crackled around him, keeping the other gods at bay, but it would only last for so long and he didn't dare use his Grace-

"How dare you show your face here, you fucking traitor," the one-handed one hissed, still bearing down on Loki.

He knew the god's name. "Not brave enough to confront me alone, Tyr?" Loki spat.

"I'm not the only one who wants revenge for what you did." Tyr's voice was low and threatening.

"And what, exactly, did I do?" Loki taunted.

"You know what!" Tyr abruptly drew back, Loki stumbled forward at the sudden lack of anything to push against, and the fight resumed at a breakneck speed.

Block, parry, duck, avoid the blades clashing and the gods who didn't care who they hit as long as Loki might have as well. His magic, green and angry, lashed out but they avoided it too well and Loki was so caught up in trying not to get himself killed [his god-self, _he_ couldn't be killed by something like that but he'd hate to have to fake his death and it would still _hurt_ ] that they managed to get something tangled around his wrist that _burned._

It yanked him off balance and Loki crashed to the ground. His other hand shot to the trapped wrist. He could already feel the magic woven into the cord that bound him. Wards and sigils and _no, they couldn't possibly know, so why the hell were there wards for **angels** -_

Tyr grabbed his hair and Loki's hand would have shoved him away, blasted him back with magic except someone had gotten the cord around that wrist, too, and how in fucking Odin's name-

"You think we didn't have a plan?" Tyr was unbearably smug, pulling Loki's head back uncomfortably far so they were looking at each other. "You, with your _magic._ None of us are as unintelligent as you seem to think."

"As if you managed to think this up on your own," Loki spat back. He refused to wince when Tyr shoved his head to the ground, hand tightening on his hair.

"As I said," Tyr growled. "Others were eager to help. Frigg was _very_ interested in aiding us with this binding. Surely you've noticed you can't do anything."

Loki's magic roiled under his skin, searching for a way out, to blast these idiotic gods off the face of the planet, but the fucking cord kept it locked tight - along with his Grace.

_How had Frigg guessed? How much did she know?_

Tyr grinned sharply, mistaking the fear that had passed across Loki's face for panic. "We're getting our revenge, you fucker."

Whoever was holding the other end of the cord pulled sharply, dragging Loki across the ground. They didn't seem to care what happened to him. Someone's hands hit his back and Loki went over the lip of the quarry, landing on the stones below with a force that knocked his breath out.

He could feel his ribs snap, body breaking and knitting itself back together in the same second. The gods were still on the edge of the forest, making their own [slower] way down and Loki scrambled to try and get the cord off, but it had been wrapped too tightly around his wrists, cutting into skin and the wards burning at him in a way that they shouldn't with ordinary string and magic-

He realized what it was made of as one of the gods [Freyr or some other disgruntled _hack_ ] delivered a kick that re-splintered ribs that had just repaired themselves and sent an unprepared and under-powered Loki sprawling.

"This is how you try to catch me?" He spat, forcing himself to get back to his feet and face them. "By taking me unawares eight to one and trapping my magic? Is this the only way you admit that you have a _hope_ of defeating me?"

"It's no _hope._ " Freyr snapped. "It's a fact. Give up, Loki."

"Go fuck yourself." Loki hissed. "You'd defile what was left of an innocent just to get the upper hand, don't pretend you're any better than me." The cord wasn't string but taken from what was once blood and bone, the remnants of either Vali or Narvi, Loki couldn't tell which but they still _dared-_

One of them managed to scramble for the ends of the cord and pull and Loki's feet were swept out from under him, the stupid fucking thing finding its ways to tangle around him and _damn_ Frigg's skill with magic, damn all of the circumstances that had led him to think he might have a _hope_ of not ending up in some disaster by coming back north.

Loki was blindsided by a sudden blow, a rock coming down on his head and disorienting him. Without his _power_ he couldn't heal fast enough to do anything about this situation, couldn't stop them from dragging him across the quarry and pulling his arms behind his back.

His wrists were pulled out, a rock flat against his back and he was being _bound_ to it. This was their big punishment, to leave him here tied up and helpless. Loki didn't know whether to laugh or not.

Tyr eventually entered his field of vision again, looking smug. "Have fun, traitor," he spat. "You're going to stay here until the fucking end of the world - Odin's orders."

The fact that Odin had been behind the ambush didn't surprise Loki. "Odin can go fuck himself on Gungnir," he sneered. "Your world's already ended, Tyr, or did you miss that? Miss your big fucking moment of bravery?"

"Shut _up!_ " Tyr's hands clenched into fists. "We're still here. Asgard won't be gone until we are."

"I was under the impression it already was." Asgard had faded with the faith, a shadowed version of what it once was.

"You know _nothing._ " Freyr snapped.

"I know more than you, you bastard." If Loki was going to be trapped here then never let it be said he didn't go down swinging. "What were you planning to do with that sword, kill me? You'd be more likely to accidentally chop your own head off."

"You shut up, or I swear the moment we leave I'm going to track down that wolf of yours," threatened Tyr. "I might do it anyway, just for _fun._ "

"Go ahead and try. I hope he bites your other hand off, and your head for a second course." There was no way Tyr would be able to take Fenris off-guard a second time.

Tyr made an aborted movement towards Loki and then seemed to change his mind, a snarling smile crossing his face. "You still think you're tough shit," he said. "Let's see what changes after a few thousand years."

* * *

It took a week for the snake to show up.

Loki heard it first, the rasp of scales on stone intimately familiar to someone who had spent so much time around Jormungand. He tried to crane his head up, see where it was coming from, but he was held so securely against the stone that it was impossible to look up far enough.

The noise was definitely coming from above him - and getting closer.

The first drop of venom scorched his neck, making Loki wince and try to edge away. It trailed down his torso, burning through the fabric of his shirt where it touched the cloth and eventually running out of potency, but not before there was a red, raw trail down Loki's chest.

"Those bastards," he huffed out, and then locked a hiss of pain behind his teeth as another drop landed on his shoulder.

This was what they had conjured up for his punishment; an eternity of torture, unless he could figure a way out from under the grip of the wards and sigils scorched into the cord. He couldn't untie it, couldn't get it off, and couldn't just magic himself out, even if he did use Grace.

Which he couldn't.

Fucking Asgardians.

* * *

Loki was sure the venom was wreaking havoc on his appearance as well, but he wasn't in a state to fully realize it until someone else vocalized it for him.

"You look horrible."

The snake moved occasionally, dripping venom all over, which meant that when Loki looked for whoever had spoken it was with one eye pinched shut to avoid what the other had already gotten - a drop directly to the eyeball. His vision was repairing itself - but slowly.

He heard the smack of liquid against a hard surface, and could make out someone standing in front of him with their arms outstretched, holding something over his head. The blurriness receded somewhat, and Loki thought he recognized the figure.

"Sigyn?" That didn't make any sense. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here because I want to be." Sigyn replied sharply. "What were you thinking, Loki? You know Asgard hates you."

"And they dislike you enough to send you out here to-" Loki squinted up at her. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I'm making sure no more of this venom gets on you than absolutely necessary."

"They'll stop you."

"Apparently, it's what I'm supposed to be doing." Sarcasm drenched Sigyn's voice. "As if I don't have anything better to be doing than making sure _you're_ alright."

Heart sinking, Loki realized their point. The venom would only feel worse if he was given a periodic reprieve from its effects. Odin was smart; he'd always been that way, but now that it was turned on Loki it wasn't nearly as much of a good thing.

"Why you?"

"Well, they are still under the impression that we were married."

"I still don't know how that happened." They'd thought Vali and Narvi were his children, too. Loki's hands, controlled by some desperate instinct, pulled at the bonds tying him. Now that his vision was clearer, Loki saw Sigyn's eyes flicker to where they held him.

She knew exactly what was holding him, he realized.

"I'm sorry about them."

"Shut up, Loki. I know exactly who was responsible for my children's deaths." Sigyn's mouth was a flat line.

"Is that why they kicked you out of Asgard?"

"Odin's no idiot."

"Unfortunately." If Odin was an idiot, then Loki wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. "It seems we're stuck here together."

Sigyn didn't immediately reply. Then-

"I suppose."

* * *

_1403 AD_

"Tell me," Loki said conversationally, trying not to betray how every time he moved the new, raw places on his body where venom had burned away skin felt like someone had lit a fire against him, "What does that snake look like?"

"Skaði's snake? Why?"

Oh, so it was _her_ wretched snake. Loki had no idea what he'd done to upset Skaði, but it was probably just because everyone in Asgard and beyond seemed to despise him. "If I am to be stuck here for as long as I think I am, then I might as well have something to talk about."

"It's a snake."

"Give me something to work with here, Sigyn."

Sigyn sighed. "It's green."

"Absolutely fascinating."

"If you want conversation, don't be so sarcastic. How much do you expect me to know about snakes?"

"I don't know." Loki stared up at Sigyn for a few moments. "You could have chosen not to help me."

"What are you on about now?"

"You're stuck here. But no one's forcing you to hold that bowl."

Sigyn scowled down at him. "Maybe I feel like it."

Loki and Sigyn had never been the closest of friends; at best, they'd been passing acquaintances. "What did I do to make you think that?"

"You're an ass, Loki, but even you don't deserve _this_ for an eternity."

* * *

_1416 AD_

"You've been quiet." Sigyn commented, after a few days in which Loki hadn't brought up some topic of conversation.

"I've been thinking." It wasn't a lie, by any means.

"About what?"

Loki took a moment to reply. "Thinking," he said quietly, "about how when I get out of here I'm going to snap Odin's neck myself." There was a slow-burning anger in him, anger at what had been done, at Odin, at the fact that he'd allowed himself to be tricked. _He_ was the Trickster, damnit.

He could see a grim smile curve Sigyn's lips. "I'll help."

"No, I'm going to do it my-fucking-self." Loki snapped. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. How dare Odin. They'd solved things - _ended_ them. And now he wanted to restart the old fight they'd had, with no rhyme nor reason to his actions? "Maybe I'll see how much _he_ likes it here."

He wasn't expecting the hand on his cheek, Sigyn forcing his head up so that their gazes met. She was balancing her bowl with one hand. "Anger is dangerous, Loki," she warned. "I don't blame you for yours against Odin. I feel the same. But make sure it doesn't burn you up."

Burn him up. How quaint, considering what happened when angels killed something. Burned them up, burned their essence from the universe. Gabriel considered doing that to Odin.

 _No._ That was a horrible idea. Loki shook his head, dislodging Sigyn's hand and forcing Gabriel back down into the deeper, darker parts of himself. Odin didn't deserve going like that.

He'd think of something better. Something slower.

* * *

_1438 AD_

"What the _hell_ did I do to deserve this?"

Sigyn wasn't there. She'd gone to empty her bowl, the one she held to catch the poison, stop it from landing on Loki, but it reached a limit eventually. Loki screamed up at the dark sky, clouds roiling and lightning flickering through them.

"What did I _do_?" He shouted. His arms pulled at the cord tying him back, catching his wrists painfully tight. He pulled until he felt skin break, but even then he couldn't stop, thrashing fueled by flat-out desperation.

He had never been meant to be tied down, but he couldn't shapeshift, couldn't escape, couldn't do _anything_ to help himself.

The storm broke with a crash of thunder, rain pounding down against the rock. The venom on Loki's skin hissed in the rain, and he could never guess which of the drops was poison and which wasn't.

He flinched at every one of them, the pale scars running down his body a testament to why.

"What did I do _wrong_?" Loki didn't know who he was pleading to. He was looking for an answer, any answer, as to how he'd somehow ended up deserving this punishment, who had _let_ it happen, _why_?

Gabriel was truly helpless for the first time in his very, very long life, and he had no idea how to deal with it.

Eventually, exhausted, Gabriel slumped back against the rock. He was a mess. A soaking wet mess. His brothers would look down on him, so pathetic that he couldn't even stand up to eight gods. Couldn't even get out of a few warding sigils.

Michael might even say he had deserved it, for what he'd done.

Water and blood ran down the rocks, and Gabriel watched them with a sort of detached numbness. He knew that it was his, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

He would heal.

It was one of the few things he could still do.

* * *

_1456 AD_

Loki's head was hanging. He didn't feel like expending the energy to look up. The drops were hitting the back of his neck when Sigyn returned from emptying out the bowl in the nearest stream. It was probably deadly now. Loki doubted any fish had lived in it beforehand, but any that might have would have died long ago.

Imagining the poison traveling downstream to some ill-fated village didn't make him laugh.

The cease in the burn of poison on his neck didn't either. Loki simply sat there, feeling his skin itch as muscle and all the other necessities repaired themselves. He wondered, vaguely, if the snake had managed to burn through to the bone this time. It had been over his neck for a long while.

"Have you stopped being angry yet?" Sigyn's voice was quiet. The air in the quarry was oppressive, a silence that made anyone wary to break it. Not even birds sounded nearby or flew overhead.

Loki didn't doubt that there would be a powerful spell on the surrounding area, to keep anyone from stumbling across him. Sigyn's question fell flat in the air.

"Loki."

The truth was, he had. So many years to let it fester and it had burned itself right out of existence.

Loki was just tired.

"Why is it," he asked slowly, "that they spend so much time despising me?" He hadn't done anything to them, recently at least, and there was nothing except Odin's word that he had been behind their pantheon's fall to Christianity at all. That had been hundreds of years ago. Why bother? Why hate someone so passionately just _because?_

"Gods don't let go of grudges easily," Sigyn said, sounding nearly as tired as Loki felt. "The Æsir least of all. They felt you slighted their honor. And you are the easiest scapegoat, being the cause of so much trouble."

"I fix what I do," Loki murmured. "I solve the problems. Chaos is fun but not if it's forever."

"They don't understand that."

At length, Loki lifted his head. "And you do?"

Sigyn's expression was unreadable. "I may know you better than them," she replied, "but we shall see how well I know you at all, in the end."

In the _end._ Loki's head dropped again. She only reminded him of what was wrong. That he was _stuck_ here until he managed to get out or until the world shook badly enough to break underneath him, break the rock and the cord holding him.

Until the End of all things.

Which, for the Norse, had already come, but they didn't _understand._ They didn't understand that he'd already broken their pantheon, that they would never come back, that trying to break him back would do nothing to help regain what they had lost.

And if they didn't understand, they'd never stop chasing him.

The thought was depressing.

When Sigyn left again, the sting of venom was almost welcome.

It distracted him.

* * *

_1485 AD_

"What's happened to you?" The question was sharp.

Sigyn's feet came to a stop just before Loki, and the pause in the hissing, torturously slow drip of venom ceased. Loki's head was still down, so Sigyn's feet were all he could see of her.

"You're not even going to make a joke?" Sigyn demanded when the silence stretched on.

"What's there to joke about?" Loki could tell his reply has surprised her, even without seeing her face. He didn't particularly care.

"Loki, look at me." He didn't. " _Loki._ " He stayed perfectly still.

"What are you trying to do?" Sigyn sounded angry. "Do you want to make Odin think he's won? You're better than this!"

"I was."

"You _are_."

Loki laughed dryly. The sound wasn't humorous in the least. "Can you look at me now, Sigyn, and honestly say that?"

There was a pause. "You look like you've given up," Sigyn said at length. "And I swear, Loki, if you tell me that's true I will walk away right now."

Loki stayed silent.

Sigyn swore, violently. "Do you think this will help?" She said furiously. "That sitting here like this will make them let you go? It will only make them think they've won, Loki!"

"I don't care."

Silence. Then Sigyn swore again, and her bowl clattered to the ground next to Loki, sending a trail of venom across his legs and wrenching a pained noise out of him.

Sigyn stalked off, feet meeting the quarry floor with a harsh slap at every step, and Loki stared at the holes in his pants and the fresh wounds in his legs and told himself he didn't care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> Kind of extreme.
> 
> I'm posting this now because it's pretty long and I figure I might as well leave myself something to start the next chapter with.
> 
> As always, read and review, if I didn't freak you out too badly!


	13. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the chapters I already have written out, so updates will be far fewer in between than the chunks of chapters that I've tended to update with so far. Thought I'd let you guys know, even if I have left this story sitting for a while in between updates.

* * *

_1491 AD  
_

When Sigyn came back, she still looked angry.

She didn't say anything, rude or otherwise. But she picked up the bowl and held it up again.

Loki didn't try to thank her, but the faintest smile curved his lips. She'd still come back for him. It was nice to think that he still had some allies, among the mess that was his former companions.

She stood, silently fuming and making no attempt to so much as acknowledge what she was doing to help him. Loki didn't blame her. He'd probably be mad at himself too, if he'd been in any position to judge.

"Just so you know," Sigyn said after some time had passed, "I still think you're an ass."

"What?" Where did that come from?

Sigyn shoved the bowl upwards, Loki heard a horrible strangled hissing noise, and a long scaly body went thudding to the floor of the quarry. Its face was mangled, and Loki stared, realizing what had happened - the snake's venom was potent enough to work on the snake itself.

It was dead.

Relief swept through Loki, so strong that he felt for a moment that he might be knocked to the side. It was _dead._ There was no more risk of being burned by venom, because of Sigyn's trick - but what was she doing?

Somehow, Sigyn had gotten her hands on a knife - Loki saw the chiseled stone blade as Sigyn took it out of a hiding place - or pocket - in her skirt. The pull on his wrists suddenly slackened, and Loki, who hadn't been expecting it, slid downwards at the sudden loss of pressure.

Sigyn yanked him back up by what was left of his shirt. "Get us out of here," she snapped, "before someone comes looking."

"The knife-" The cord was still tight around his wrists, even if he wasn't bound to the rocks anymore. "I need to get this _off._ "

She let him grab the knife and Loki dug it in, trying to fit the blade underneath to cut through the cord, not caring if he cut his own wrist in the process. The sigils broke along with the fraying binding, loosing their power and Loki felt _his_ power expand.

It was like taking a deep breath after being trapped underwater and he sagged against Sigyn, relishing in it.

" _Loki!_ "

He reached out, taking them away from the quarry in a second. He landed in soft grass, on his back and staring up at a far different sight than the one he'd been afforded for the last few decades.

Sigyn grabbed his hands, wrestling the knife away. He let her. He didn't need it anymore. "What in _Hel's_ name do you think you're doing?" She demanded, looking shaken.

"I had to get it off." Hel would be glad to see him. He could actually go _find_ her again, see all of them. Loki stared up at the sky, let the possibilities fill his mind. No one would find him here, not if he didn't want them to. His wrists were already healing, but Sigyn still looked alarmed.

"I didn't mean for you to start doing _that_!"

Loki looked over at her, abruptly reminding himself of what had just happened. "Why did you do it?" She had no reason to want to rescue him. Loki wasn't sure if he'd wanted to be rescued.

"Anything to screw Odin over," Sigyn said flippantly, taking a moment to reply. Loki could tell that she was bluffing. She sobered slightly, then pulled on Loki's shoulders. "Sit up. I can't take you seriously if you're lying down."

Loki listened this time, using his arms to prop himself up. There was a slight breeze he hadn't noticed before, and he closed his eyes, letting himself _enjoy_ what he was feeling.

"You still look like shit," Sigyn said.

"You haven't really answered my question."

Sigyn sighed. "Seeing you like that was odd," she admitted. Loki laughed quietly.

"You were concerned for me?"

"You cut open your wrists trying to get that _thing_ off, I think I have reason to be." Sigyn huffed. She stood up, stepping away, moving to _leave_ , and Loki scrambled to his feet.

"Sigyn, wait."

"What?"

She wasn't expecting him to hug her, judging by the way she stiffened under his hold. "Thank you," he said breathlessly.

Sigyn hugged him back, briefly, and he let go when she tried to step away again. "You're welcome," she said, looking at him thoughtfully, and then smiled. "It can hardly be a bad thing, you owing me a favor."

Loki laughed again, slightly hysterically. He didn't care how many favors he owed Sigyn, or what she might ask him to do in return. He was _out._

* * *

Loki didn't stay long in the field, his magic taking him somewhere else - _anywhere_ else. He didn't know who might have been watching him, who might be trying to follow him now, and so he jumped from city to city. He didn't stay long in each place; an hour, tops, if he was forced to stop and catch his breath, before moving on.

He didn't stop until late that night when his magic demanded that he do so. Each trip made pulling his magic up more difficult, until it felt like he was trying to move the pyramids singlehandedly and Graceless.

Luckily, Fenris wasn't far away. Loki had chosen his destination carefully, knowing he wouldn't have the energy for another after this one; and Fenris's territory hadn't been far away.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, nudging against Loki's head and curling around him.

"I did something stupid," Loki said, leaning heavily against Fenris's leg. Fenris sat down quickly, sprawling out and affording a better surface to lean against. Loki had been better earlier, with the full strength of his powers restored to him, but now his injuries were catching up with him.

"What happened to you?" Fenris raised one paw, moving to try and touch Loki, and then seemed to think better of the idea. Even one paw was bigger than Loki's head. "Who did this?" His voice held more of a growl than usual, and his lips were drawn back from his teeth.

"Odin." Fenris growled again at the name. Loki slipped to his knees as his legs decided that they did _not_ want to keep holding him up, still using Fenris as a means of support. It shouldn't have taken him by surprise like it did. He hadn't stood on them for a century, at least, if his sense of time had held up.

"You're hurt." Loki stumbled as Fenris moved away, growing smaller until it was hands and not paws holding him up, furs draped over a relatively human frame. "Faðir, you need help."

"I'll be okay." Probably. As long as he could find somewhere where he didn't have to worry about trouble cropping up.

Fenris's hands tightened on Loki's shoulders, and then one let go. Fingers traced lightly over the scars that now decorated his body. "No. You need healing." He hoisted Loki up, the latter's legs dangling. Fenris seemed much taller from this perspective than he'd looked in comparison to Loki.

Loki leaned his head against Fenris's shoulder, letting his eyes slip shut. He could argue, but that would take energy, energy that he had very little of at the moment.

"Don't fall asleep." Fenris's nails dug into his arm.

"I'm not asleep," Loki reassured him, and the pressure relaxed.

"Hold still," Fenris said, and took off at a run.

* * *

A part of Loki was still razor-sharp and on edge, on the lookout for the tiniest hint of a threat, but he was with Fenris, so Loki let the rest of himself drift.

Flickers of awareness brought him closer to being fully awake; a muted conversation that sounded like Fenris talking to himself, a wash of warmth and the flicker of orange in a grate.

Loki's eyes shot open at a cool, stinging touch on his face, jerking away instinctually. Fenris froze, some herbal concoction coated on his fingertips.

Loki's eyes flickered around the room, realizing that he was in someone's house; it was only one room but surprisingly big, a fire burning in a small pit at one end. The air of spaciousness was helped by the fact that there was barely anything in the room.

"Whose house is this?" He didn't move any closer to Fenris.

"Mine." Fenris slowly lowered his hand. "I like being like this sometimes. It's...simpler."

Loki rubbed at his forehead, hand coming away with some of the stuff Fenris had been putting on him. "I didn't know you knew herbs this well." He could trust Fenris, he knew that much, but it had felt a little too familiar for his tastes.

"I've had to heal myself before." Fenris replied. "I...thought it might help."

Loki forced himself to relax. There was no snake, just his _kid,_ who was honestly trying to help. He shifted closer again; at least it was likely that Fenris actually knew what he was doing. Loki had never really ended up in a situation that required him to know how to heal someone.

Fenris smiled, the movement coming across a bit off, as if he wasn't sure how to smile correctly. "At least you can be reasonable about this."

Loki was concentrating too hard on trying to relax to reply, but he managed a sort of smile that probably looked as false as it felt.

The firelight glinted off the metal still wrapped around Fenris's arms as he moved. Loki's eyes were drawn to it, old regret pulling itself out of the recesses of his memory.

Fenris saw where he was looking. "Don't," he said. "I know what you're thinking."

"I promised I would get it off you." And he'd failed to think of anything that would work and skipped off across the world instead.

"And I told you that you wouldn't be able to do anything." Fenris sat back for a moment, studying Loki with eyes that would have been an unusual shade of amber on a human. "You left because you didn't want to tell me you'd failed, but I knew you wouldn't find anything."

Loki averted his eyes, fingers curling in the furs he was lying on. Admitting Fenris was right was something he couldn't bring himself to do, because that would mean there really was nothing to be done.

"Besides," Fenris continued, "I'm not the one you need to worry about right now."

"It's not - _aaaah._ " Fenris's fingers poked at a sensitive area, making Loki suck in a breath.

"Sorry. But if you were about to say it's not that bad, then I'm going to poke you again." Fenris raised one eyebrow, a move he had down well considering how uncertainly he'd smiled.

Loki swallowed down his retort. He couldn't even say he'd been through worse. He allowed a moment to pass, barely noticing that it had while he managed to relax under Fenris's surprisingly gentle care.

"Thank you," he said quietly after a few minutes had passed.

Fenris looked up sharply, brow furrowed. "You don't need to say that," he told Loki. "We're family."

Family.

He was wrong, then, about coming back north being a bad idea.

Loki let his head fall back and his attention wander.

* * *

The next time he was pulled back to awareness, it was to loud voices, one of which _definitely_ did not belong to Fenris.

"I can't believe you'd even _think_ of coming here-" Fenris wasn't shouting, but he didn't need to be to sound angry.

"Please-"

"You're _insane_ if you think I'm going to let you in this house, do you think I don't know where you've been this whole time?"

"I haven't!" The other voice protested. Loki managed to rouse himself enough to see that Fenris was very determinedly holding the door shut on someone. "I left as soon as I heard what happened!"

"To me, or to him?" Fenris bit out.

A heavy silence fell in the wake of his words. "It wasn't like that," the other voice said, much more quietly; _they_ had been shouting before. "I didn't know. I only stayed because I was trying to find out more. If you think I _consented_ to _that_ -"

"I don't know _what_ to think of you."

"I was trying to _find_ him this whole time-" Were they talking about him?

"You're saying that I wasn't?" Fenris snapped. "That none of us were?"

"I'm not."

"That's not what I heard."

"Brother, _please._ " Brother?

Loki hauled himself into a sitting position, getting to his feet unsteadily. They still felt incredibly reluctant to hold his weight, but he could make it to the door. The fire from last night was still burning, so Loki left the blankets on the bed he'd most likely stolen from Fenris and managed to come up behind his son.

"No amount of-"

"Fenris?"

Fenris stilled mid-word when Loki spoke, turning his head to look at Loki. "You shouldn't be up," he said reproachfully.

"I'll live," Loki replied. "Who's at the door?"

"No one important."

Whoever was outside inhaled sharply. Loki leveled a severe look at Fenris, and was gratified when Fenris looked down at the floor instead of meeting it. "I heard him call you brother," he said, wondering where the stern attitude had dredged itself from. "Who is it?"

"Slepnir," Fenris admitted in a grumble. "I'm not letting him in."

"Fenris-"

"It's my house," Fenris said defensively. "I'm allowed to decide who comes in and who doesn't."

"I just want to talk to him," Slepnir pleaded from the other side of the door.

"If he wants to talk-" Loki began.

"Don't take his side!" Fenris snapped, cutting him off. "He was with Odin while that _bastard_ did what he wanted with us and didn't even think about leaving!"

"That's not true!" The door was rattled insistently. "Fenris, please, I swear I'm telling the truth, I didn't know what he did to you."

"How did you find out, then?"

"Fenris," Loki said quietly, "He isn't lying." Lies fit in under some of his [admittedly varied] titles; if Slepnir had been lying, he would know it.

Fenris looked away from him, letting his head hit the door with a thump. "He never came to try and reconcile before," Fenris said quietly.

"I wasn't sure you would want to see me." Slepnir said with a touch of desperation. "I didn't - I thought I would just make things worse if I came. But then I found out Faðir was here-"

"How?" Fenris broke in.

"Hel told me."

Fenris growled something unintelligible under his breath that even Loki couldn't make out. Reluctance in every facet of his posture, he stepped away from the door.

Slepnir stumbled in, most likely not expecting the sudden loss of pressure pushing against him. Fenris slammed the door behind him, and Slepnir's gaze jumped from Loki to him.

"Thanks." Fenris turned away without acknowledging that Slepnir had even spoken. Slepnir moved towards him. "I wanted to-"

His hand caught Fenris's wrist and Slepnir froze, no doubt feeling cold metal where it was still tight around his brother's arms.

Fenris snatched his arm away. "I don't care," he said tightly. "Talk with Faðir if you want, but leave me alone."

Fenris managed to angrily seat himself next to the fire. Catching a glimpse of Slepnir's expression, Loki reached out a hand, gently tugging him away.

"Let your brother be," he said. "He's got a right to be angry."

Slepnir looked abashed. "I wouldn't have stayed if I had known," he repeated.

"I believe you."

Slepnir's eyes moved over Loki, no doubt taking in his appearance. "You don't look good," he said, worry replacing anxiety. "Should you be standing?"

"My legs are fine." Loki sat down anyway, Slepnir hesitating before following suit with a glance at Fenris, who was still pretending that there wasn't anyone else in the house. "How did you end up here?" He hadn't known that Fenris spent enough time in human form to _need_ a house.

"I didn't either," Slepnir began awkwardly. "I was stuck in Asgard. I didn't really want to be, but it was easier than the alternative." Loki took that to mean that comfortable imprisonment, of a sort, was preferable to wandering around the wilder parts of the world. "And even if I had left, if I'd stayed looking like a horse...even without the extra legs someone would've tried to catch me again eventually. And being human's nice, but..." he searched for the right words for a moment. "It's not me."

"It's not your natural form," Loki finished for him. He would have been surprised if it _was_ comfortable to stay like that permanently.

"Why did you leave Asgard, if it was so _comfortable_?" Fenris said rudely, refusing to turn around.

"It wasn't," Slepnir protested. "It was just _easier_ to stay. But...I started hearing snippets of news. Things that had happened." He looked shiftily at Loki. "They said you had had a big falling-out with Odin. And...later, that someone had killed Baldur. Everyone thought it was you."

It was clearly a question, even if it wasn't phrased like one. Loki shrugged, muttering "It's not that far off." That was probably the closest he'd ever get to admitting it.

"So I figured if you had killed Baldur, you would have had a good reason for it," Slepnir continued. "I stuck around to try and learn more. To see if I could get all the information, but...I was sort of stuck in the stables most of the time." He looked embarrassed. "I didn't...get anything solid until recently. When I found out what happened to you." His face creased in distaste and anger. "They were bragging about it."

Loki couldn't honestly say it surprised him. If Asgard thought they'd finally won something decisive in their 'battle' against him, they would have made sure as many people as possible knew it.

"After that, I left." Slepnir finished. "Hel talked to me a while after that. She told me what happened to Fenris." His eyes moved to his brother. "And how to get here."

"How did she know-" Loki began.

"I told her," Fenris said. "You were out for a while. I had to sleep, too. Hel came looking for answers while I was asleep."

He must have been referring to dream-messages. "Not in person?" Loki questioned. Hel had left her realm before, for smaller things than this.

"She said she didn't want to risk it."

"Risk what?"

"Faðir," Slepnir said exasperatedly, "She's a _death_ goddess."

"I'm not going to fall over and die if Hel shows up unexpectedly." Loki retorted, and saw a flicker of amusement pass over Fenris's face.

"Don't go looking for her," Fenris warned jokingly. "If you show up in her realm looking like that she's going to panic, and then _I'm_ going to be held responsible."

"Hel's not that unreasonable," Slepnir protested.

"She is Queen of the Dead," Loki muttered.

"Even if she wouldn't, you shouldn't try crossing realms." Fenris looked up, seriousness making his joking demeanor ebb. "I know they must have warded wherever you were. You're magic's not in a good state."

Loki crossed his arms, feeling magic spark under his skin rebelliously at the thought. "No," he admitted quietly. "It's not." Neither was his Grace, but they didn't need to know about that.

"You should let it settle," Slepnir said.

"He was resting before you started shouting," Fenris muttered, but both of them heard it regardless.

Loki sighed pointedly, rolling his eyes. "You two," he muttered, but a faint smile lingered on his lips.

It was good to see them.

* * *

"Is he really alright?"

Loki's eyes cracked open, and he stared uncomprehendingly at the wall for a few moments before he realized what he was looking at. The room was dark, and the whisper that had woken him was followed by a long period of silence.

"It's just..." The same person - Slepnir - spoke again. "He doesn't really seem like himself."

"I know." Fenris replied, equally softly. "I thought he'd complain about how boring it would be to have to rest so much, but it doesn't seem like he cares. He was better when you got here than he was when he found me."

"What was he like?"

"...Blank. He didn't talk much. I think he almost passed out before we got here." Loki abruptly realized that they were talking about him. That had taken a little too long for comfort.

"That bad?"

"We both know what they did. Were you expecting anything else?"

Loki wondered why they hadn't shown how worried they were while he was awake.

Slepnir was silent for a long time, but eventually spoke. "It's not just the injuries. Something else happened then."

"We could ask Sigyn. Wasn't she there?"

"If you think you can find her..."

Loki closed his eyes again. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear _that_ conversation.

* * *

"He gave up."

"He _what_?"

A woman's voice partially roused Loki, but he didn't open his eyes. He was trying to get his magic back in order, damnit. Why did he keep waking up?

"He spent a century tied up, what did you think was going to happen?" The same voice asked with a fierce edge. "I don't like it any more than you do, but it's the truth."

"He wouldn't," Fenris's voice snapped back.

" _Which_ one of us was there, again?"

"Alright, enough." Slepnir cut in. "You're going to wake him up. That's the last thing we need right now."

Loki kept his breathing slow, feeling the weight of three gazes on him. Why were they having this discussion in secret? Wouldn't they just ask him?

...He probably wouldn't have answered honestly if they had.

"I still don't believe you," Fenris said mulishly.

"I know it's difficult to believe, you being his sons, but I've no reason to lie." The woman said. Was that Sigyn? How had she gotten here? "Being bound like that affected him more than I thought it would."

"It would hurt anyone, wouldn't it?" Slepnir asked.

"But he's _Loki._ " Fenris sounded aggrieved. "He's _Faðir._ This isn't-" He broke off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

"Yeah," Slepnir said tentatively, "But he's just a god. I - I don't know him as well as you do, but...he's not invulnerable."

There was silence for a long moment, until Fenris finally spoke. "He always seemed like he was."

"Then maybe it's finally caught up to him," Sigyn suggested. "If Loki is used to constantly being in charge of a situation, or at least acting like he is, then being trapped in a place where he can't do any of that would be a devastating blow."

Silence stretched out again. Loki was doing his best to pretend he was still asleep; part of him wanted to shout to stop _analyzing_ him, but the other half was just unsettled.

Had he really given up just because he wasn't in charge of the situation?

Loki shoved the thought aside. He was _fine._ He was an _angel -_ he'd been through worse than this, and it wasn't enough to get him down. But the idea lingered in his head no matter how much he ignored it.

"So what do we do?" Fenris asked.

"I don't know." Sigyn said. "I've never known someone who was like this before."

"You have to have _some_ idea." Fenris sounded almost desperate.

"Just because I'm a woman does _not_ mean I'm a master in all emotional manners." There was a rustling noise. "I've told you what you asked for. If you will excuse me, I'd rather not spend the rest of my time around the same person I've just been forced into close quarters with for the last century."

There was a creak that Loki assumed was the door, and then silence again.

"What _can_ we do?" Fenris repeated, voice sounding much smaller.

"...We'll figure it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh boy. This ended up a lot more intense than I meant it to be. I had to go back and fix some stuff because yeah, lighthearted would be nice, but it would mean completely ignoring the healing process.
> 
> Comment please!


	14. Hermes and Travels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those of you who reviewed on the last few chapters! I'd been kind of neglecting this story in favor of my other [more popular] ones, so I kinda needed the incentive to keep writing.
> 
> Anyway, I'm going to start by saying that I am not a mental health professional.
> 
> Continuing on that line, I don't really trust myself to write an accurate representation of how Loki/Gabriel might get better. What happened messed him up a lot, and he's dealing with some very serious repercussions. The thing is, I don't know how he might realistically go about getting better or how Fenris and Slepnir might help him do that. My only resource, really, is the internet and I'm sure we all know how reliable that can be. I'll probably end up on Wikipedia.
> 
> That said, I'll be skipping quite a lot of time in between where the last chapter left off and where this one starts. This one will be at a point where Loki's recovered a lot; there's still a lingering effect, sure, because that kind of thing takes a very long time to heal. Especially when it involves gods, who take longer to do basically everything. So even if I could find an accurate resource, I still wouldn't really know how it would affect gods differently, and mental health isn't something I'm willing to bullshit.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy.
> 
> [Warning for a brief mention of sexual assault later in the chapter, but I'm trying to be historically accurate and there was quite a lot of that going on, however unfortunately]

* * *

_1527 AD (aka quite some time later)  
_

_Greece_

The look on Hermes's face when he noticed Loki was fairly gratifying.

"Hello."

"What in Hades are you doing here?"

"That's rude," Loki said, lounging back in his chair. "I thought I'd come by and see you again."

"Are you - is that my food?" Hermes looked scandalized.

"There's really no need to be angry."

"Who wouldn't be angry if you ate my food and faked your death for three centuries! Where have you _been,_ Loki?"

"Staying undercover." Loki slid his feet off the table. No use in antagonizing Hermes even further. "How do you think I managed to keep up the illusion that I was dead?"

He could see Hermes scanning him, appraising his appearance. "Are those scars?"

Loki resisted the urge to touch his face. "That's really the first thing you're going to say to me?"

Hermes paused. "What are you really doing here?"

"I needed to go south."

"And this was the first place you thought of?"

 _Yes._ _You're my friend._ "The most convenient."

"Hera _still_ hates you."

"Well, as long as you don't tell her I'm here..."

"Of course not," Hermes said. "But you still owe me for the food."

* * *

_1532 AD_

"Have you heard what's going on across the ocean?"

Loki frowned. "No. Like I said, I've been staying out of public sight."

"It's relatively new." Hermes was sitting leisurely at the table, but he looked surprised. "Don't tell me you never heard. That fellow Columbus? Tried to get to India by sailing straight west away from Portugal back in the 1400s. '91, I think? Managed to get the Spanish monarchy to fund him."

Loki snorted. He could imagine how well that had gone. "And?"

"And he ran into something new in between him and India." Hermes took a sip from one of the two glasses set out, neither more than half full. They'd been there a while. "Anyway, Cortez is over there now. Some stubborn Spanish bastard. Far as I can tell, he's just massacring everyone there for their gold."

Loki made a face, picking up his own cup. "Fantastic."

"Don't tell me you're not excited. It's practically a whole new world." Hermes laughed. "That's what they're calling it, anyway. 'The New World'. Makes it sound more exciting, I suppose, though if things keep going the way they are now I doubt whoever was there first is going to last to the end of the century. Or the decade, even."

Loki didn't reply. He could feel Hermes's eyes on him.

"Oh, come on." Hermes put down his glass with enough force to shake the table. " _Nothing_?"

"So you admit you're trying to bait me," Loki said, giving Hermes a dark look.

"I'm trying to get you to do _something,_ " Hermes said aggravatedly. "I've enjoyed seeing you again. Really, I have. But you haven't so much as looked once at a human since you've gotten here! We walked past a man this morning and his purse was practically sticking out of his pocket."

"And?"

"You didn't even make an effort to steal it."

Loki rolled his eyes. "So, I can't be bothered. That's your problem now?"

"I'm just saying maybe it would be good for you." Hermes retorted. "Fresh grounds. And Chaos knows how many miles away from your pantheon, for another."

"They've already been across that sea."

"Well they're not still there, obviously."

"I'm not _interested_ in this New World of yours, Hermes." Loki sat back in his chair. "And you singing its praises isn't going to change that."

"It's not 'my' New World. Do I look Spanish to you?"

"I still don't care," Loki said sharply. "And even if I did, there's plenty in Europe to keep me occupied."

Hermes raised his eyebrows. "Europe's small. I'm surprised you've stayed this long, honestly."

"If Odin thinks he can scare me off the goddamned continent then he's got another thing coming." Loki's glass _thunked_ onto the table. "I'm staying."

* * *

_1534 AD_

"Where'd you go?"

"I was in France."

Hermes, to his credit, didn't react besides a slight note of interest entering his voice. "Really? That explains the mess going on with - what was his name?"

"The king? Francis." Loki shed his cape, throwing it over a chair. "His security's shit."

"Hm, I heard. Were you the one that put that note on his door?" Hermes poked his head through the nearest doorway, grinning. "And you said you weren't interested."

"In the New World. My exact words were that I was staying in Europe." Loki strolled across the room, brushing past Hermes. Truth be told, he'd just gotten utterly _bored_ with not doing anything. He wasn't really in the mood for it, but he couldn't think of anything else to do. And he _had_ recovered. Fenris and Slepnir kept worrying - what other way to get them off his back? "What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd make something."

"You're cooking?" Since when did Hermes know how to cook?

"I _do_ still get offerings from some, you know," Hermes sniffed. "And you ate all my food."

"A decade ago."

"Shut up, Loki, or you're not getting any."

"Oh, come on. I've just gotten back from France." Loki leaned towards the counter, trying to see what was on it better. Hermes swatted his shoulder, pushing him away. Loki put his hand to his chest in mock offense. "You're so cruel."

"Ha, ha." Hermes was grinning. "I'm sure."

"Come on. I need something to get over being around a bunch of offended Catholics."

"Don't tell me you stuck around for the aftermath." Hermes rolled his eyes. "You dislike Christians enough already."

"Why do you think I went after them?"

"Fair enough. You can tell me what happened later."

* * *

_1543 AD_

"Did you see this?" Hermes held up a sheaf of parchment, disbelief written over his face.

"What?"

"Copernicus. Some scientist. He's got this new theory."

Loki held out his hand expectantly. Hermes handed over the papers.

"This is all of it?"

"Only the important parts."

Loki read it.

Gabriel almost had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. _The Earth goes around the Sun._ What a novel concept...to humans, at least.

He wondered how long it would take them to figure out that Copernicus was right. _This_ was why he avoided getting involved in science - he'd always be more than just a little ahead of however far humans had progressed.

"What?" Hermes sounded irritated. "I can tell you're laughing at me."

"Not at you," Loki reassured him, letting the topmost papers fall from his hand. He put the stack back on the table, an amused smile curving his mouth. "He's going to get himself burned at the stake."

Hermes snorted. "True. If the Church sees this I think the Pope might just explode."

That made Loki laugh outright. "How dare anyone say that not _everything_ revolves around humanity."

"If anything, it revolves around us." Hermes gestured between the two of them. "We're worth it, after all."

"More so than them, certainly."

* * *

_1582 AD_

"I've been thinking-" Loki held up a hand before Hermes could crack the joke he knew was coming. "Don't. I'm being serious. I want to go somewhere else for a bit."

"Getting tired of Europe?" Hermes didn't look surprised. Loki brought it up.

"Well, you've been here for a decade twice over." Hermes pointed out. "I would be surprised if you weren't itching to be somewhere else by now."

Loki shrugged. "I'm not saying for long. I'm just..." _Cooped up._ He knew he didn't _have_ to stay, but it was only polite to let Hermes know.

"I understand." Hermes held up his hands briefly, then pushed himself away from the table. "You don't have to warn me. Though I suppose if you get into the habit then I'll know if you get kidnapped or something."

Loki didn't bother to laugh, just rubbed at his wrists.

"Sorry. Bad joke."

"Yes, it was." It came out more snappishly than he intended.

Hermes looked apologetic. He made a few false starts to speak, then looked away and retreated inside.

Loki didn't call him back. He tried to get rid of the phantom ache that settled in his wrists, an invisible cord that bound them all over again, but he knew it wouldn't leave for a while.

It was hardly the first time this had happened. At least he wasn't panicking about it anymore. That had been the worst part of having to recover - all the little things that suddenly set him off.

He still hated being outside when it rained.

Loki shook the memories off. He was being ridiculous. And he _wasn't_ trapped in a panicked fugue, which meant he could do whatever he liked.

Including leave.

He didn't go inside to say goodbye to Hermes first.

* * *

_Also 1582 AD_

Japan was small and similar enough to China that it made it almost confusing at times, which was why Loki stayed for longer than a few days. He'd already been through most of northeast Asia - China he hadn't visited in a while, but that could wait for another time. Besides, he'd heard they were having a problem with the Mongols, and he'd rather not get involved in that.

And, of course, Japan was small enough that the local gods took interest in him.

The goddess who took the initiative and tracked him down didn't seem pleased.

"Amaterasu." Loki grinned and hoped he'd guessed her name right. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Why are you here?" She asked sharply in Japanese. "To cause trouble?"

"No." Loki switched to Japanese as well. "Just for pleasure."

Amaterasu was giving him a calculating look. "No one comes here without a reason," she said. "Not any of _us_."

"I don't know if the news has made it this far, but there are few places I'm still welcome in Europe," Loki told her. "And far fewer are the friends that would welcome me. I thought it better to go somewhere I'd never been before."

"They dislike you because you cause trouble," Amaterasu said. "This is _my_ country."

"I'm well aware." Loki nodded his head in a half-bow. "Your country, and I am merely a guest wishing to avoid unpleasantness."

Amaterasu squinted suspiciously at him. Loki was almost glad for it - there was a fire in here eyes like the sun, which made sense considering what she was the goddess of. "You will not touch the Emperor," she said eventually.

"No." It was probably best to just agree to whatever conditions she imposed.

"And you will not cause enough trouble to destabilize anything," Amaterasu warned him. "No cities, no hierarchies."

"No. I'll keep my hands off." Loki raised them, smiling. "Do we have a deal?"

Amaterasu was silent for a moment. "We have a deal," she agreed, reluctantly. "You may stay, if you do not go beyond your boundaries."

"You won't hear a word of me," Loki said. "That much I can promise."

* * *

It was much easier being the shadow that no one noticed, anyway.

Loki _was_ careful not to cause too much trouble. Individual people, yes, but never anyone too important. Occasionally he even _averted_ a disaster or two - anything major, and whether or not he was actually responsible Amaterasu would come down on him in all her fury and probably boot him back to Greece.

Japan had plenty of problems, though - just as many as Greece or any other nation. Loki had entered on the tail end of the _daimyo_ civil war, feudal lords fighting over land and to be the one to reunite Japan. It had, apparently, been a long and bitter battle. The man in charge, Hideyoshi, was doing his best to bring the country under his absolute control.

It burned Loki that he couldn't do anything to trigger more fights, flare up the resentment of the farmers at being forced to give up their weapons, of the samurai at being forbidden to be anything but warriors and having to move into the castle towns that Hideyoshi established.

Loki couldn't touch, much less throw, the proverbial apple of Discord. If the Japanese had an equivalent to that. The only thing Loki agreed with was the edict banning Christian missionaries, but even that wasn't enough to get rid of them all.

Loki did things on his own terms, though - including his eventual departure from Japan. He had no desire to put yet another deity in the 'anti-Loki' camp, so he remembered his promise to Amaterasu and, however reluctantly, kept his hands off.

That didn't mean he had _no_ opportunities to cause a little strife.

The people of Japan were only human, after all, and they had their failings just like the rest of the world. Loki bounced around the islands and avoided the most powerful of the lords.

He stayed in the shadows, the extra, unnoticeable person in every situation, and never quite found somewhere he felt at home.

He liked it a startling amount.

There was a freedom to it that he'd never tasted as Loki. Unattached, and no one ever blamed him because no one noticed he was there.

It was _thrilling._

* * *

_1616 AD_

The battle between Hideyoshi's successor and the man who actually succeeded him sorely tested Loki's resolve to stay in the shadows and not interfere, but Japan was too interesting to leave now.

Besides, Ieyasu was infintely more interesting - not to mention cleverer - than Hideyoshi. And he held the same distaste for Christians, so win-win.

It was shortly after he'd defeated his rivals for good - shortly to a god, anyway - that Amaterasu visited again.

Loki, who at the moment was attending a feast he hadn't been invited to, only raised his eyebrows. "Should I be flattered that you've come in person, or afraid?"

"You have been oddly compliant," Amaterasu said. "What are you planning?"

"On eating this pastry, first of all." Loki popped said pastry into his mouth. He'd grown attached to them. "I have no world-toppling plans, Amaterasu-ōmikami."

Maybe it was the honorific that got her attention, but Loki could tell he'd managed to startle her. "What are you here for?"

"I've told you. Pleasure." Loki shrugged. "I happen to like Japan."

"And you put aside your mischief for that."

"I know how to moderate myself."

Amaterasu studied him, eyes just as bright as the last time they'd met. "You are a puzzle," she said.

"Thank you."

"It was not a compliment."

"I like to take it as one."

"You toppled your pantheon," Amaterasu said. Loki didn't react. He knew it was common knowledge, by now. It was the reason he hadn't expected a warm welcome. "And yet you are content with petty tricks?"

"Petty tricks have their merit," Loki replied. "I am not in the business of making god's followers vanish and convert without reason. And you seem nice enough. I'd hate to ruin what's been accomplished." It was only partly a lie.

"I will hold you to that," Amaterasu said.

"I'm sure." Loki's smile was false. "Is that all, or were you here for the party and not just me?"

Amaterasu scoffed, and when Loki looked back up he was alone at the table again.

* * *

_1655 AD_

Japan's determined policy of isolation had been the cue Loki was looking for - he wasn't sure if it involved forbidding people to leave, but he left anyway. If he was breaking a law, all the better.

In any case, a country completely cut off from everyone else was no fun, no matter how many 'petty tricks' he could play.

The other side of the world, in any case, was looking _much_ more interesting.

Port Royal was a name that people seemed to be tossing around all the time, but Loki had no idea where it was. He'd looked in England first - it seemed like the kind of name the English would give a port, with their 'God save the Queen' and all that.

It wasn't in England, but plenty of people in England knew where it was.

"Jamaica?"

"'Course," said the man sitting opposite Loki in the dirty pub. "The Caribbean's where it's all at, lad. The Spanish take their gold through there and anyone with a ship and a crew can try and take it from them."

"And the crown really endorses this." Loki really shouldn't have been surprised - Britain, France, and Spain seemed to mutually hate each other and always had.

"Oh, sure. The ones they protect give 'em a share of the profits," the man said. "None of 'em really mind, seein' as it's a fairly profitable business."

Loki folded his hands together, propping his chin on them. "The Caribbean, you said?"

"Aye. No matter where they're from, all of 'em end up in Port Royal at one point or another."

"Hm." Perhaps he'd make a trip across the ocean after all.

* * *

It wasn't difficult to find a crew to join, mostly because Loki simply joined an unsuspecting crew leaving England and hitched a ride on their ship as they crossed the Atlantic.

The path they took seemed to be a common one - when the crew started nearing the Caribbean islands, they ran across a Spanish galleon going the opposite way.

Loki saw an opportunity, and switched ships when they got close enough. None of the crew of the galleon noticed him either, because Loki didn't want to be noticed.

He sat back, and waited.

It took about half an hour for the lookout to shout in alarm. "Barco pirata!" _Pirate ship._

Finally.

Even in a smaller ship, the pirates caught up with them quickly. The wind was favorable for them, but blowing as a headwind towards the galleon. The sailors were shouting at each other in rapid Spanish. Guns were being readied along the side of the ship, and Loki idly wondered what they'd think when they saw the gunpowder so wet it was useless.

Sabotage, probably, but none of them knew he was there. He wondered who would get blamed first.

Then the pirates swarmed over the sides of the galleon, and things got a lot more interesting.

* * *

None of the crew of the galleon were left alive, but as far as the pirates were concerned Loki had been a part of their crew the whole time.

He could get used to this pirate thing. The ocean offered the same sort of freedom he'd discovered in Japan, with no one but the other pirates around him. He didn't have to worry about rotten food and the various diseases that they risked by being out at sea for so long. Or drowning, for that matter, though if the ship sank far away enough from land he'd have a hell of a time getting to the nearest island.

The crew were an interesting bunch. A mishmash of people picked up in Port Royal; some looking for the power of it, others for riches, others looking for an official reason to get away with killing and looting.

It was quite like the Viking raiders, in Loki's opinion, though nowadays 'Vikings' seemed to be a blanket term for the Norsemen as a whole. The same sort of unquestioned ideal that whoever they were raiding deserved it - although the Spanish really did, seeing as they'd stolen most of it from what was left of the native empires.

Loki had never been on the mainland itself, so he had no idea what might have been left of the Aztecs or whatever they called themselves, but he'd heard of the diseases that had ravaged them even without the Spaniards doing the physical ravaging and raping.

He blended in with the crew well enough, though - most of them were English or at the very least British, with only a few lowly cabin boys actually from Jamaica by birth. Loki had gotten lucky and stumbled across a crew that had just been assembled, so none of them knew each other very well yet, making it even easier for him to convince them he'd been there the whole time.

"Ship ahoy!" Of course, his enthusiasm for their line of work also helped dispel any fears they might have held about him. That, and the fact that he wasn't Spanish.

Loki swung himself up on one of the rope ladders of the ship, casting an eye about for the ship. It was practically a dot on the horizon, but the wind was good - they could catch up. There was a cutlass on his hip that he'd been given, and it swung loosely on the swordbelt like it was waiting to be unsheathed.

Loki had never used one like it before, but he could learn.

"Where are they?" The captain had burst out from belowdecks with a shout.

"North-northwest!" The lookout shouted. The telescope was still held to his eye. He kept moving to keep the ship in sight. "It's a galleon!"

The captain - Loki hadn't bothered learning his name - bared his teeth in a grin. "Excellent." He moved swiftly to the wheel, taking over from the man already there. "Take all you can!" He shouted. "And if anyone takes a single coin for himself, he'll be seeing how much use it gives him at the bottom of the ocean. Run up the flag!"

The flag - that was another delightfully deceptive part of piracy. Loki watched the false flag go up - Spanish colors, even if the ship didn't look very Spanish.

"Sinclair!" The shout of 'his' name jerked Loki back to attention. He'd called himself Simun Sinclair when the captain had first asked for it. "Stay up there! Once we get close enough you're to fire off a few warning shots!"

Loki saluted cheerily and climbed up a few steps. The galleon already appeared to be getting bigger. It wasn't going as fast as it could have been - obviously the fake flag had worked.

"You two!" The captain was shouting at the cabin boys. "Make some noise! Get over there and scare the shit out of those Spaniards!"

Their ship was cutting through the water, faster and lighter than the galleon and close enough now to hear the shouts aboard the ship. The two cabin boys were shouting themselves hoarse, danging over the sides of the ship and waving pistols they'd been hurriedly handed by someone else.

Loki grinned, and aimed his pistol.

Time to have some fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, who here disagrees that Loki would probably be a pirate?
> 
> Please leave a comment!


	15. Piracy and Old Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, you're in luck for this chapter. MORE PIRATES. I mean technically the golden age of piracy doesn't end until 1726 [ha, tell that to the other historical character I'm planning to bring in] so we've got lots of time for PIRATES.
> 
> I feel like I should clarify now that I'm not planning to have Loki be captain of anything. He's in the shadows, guys. Pirate captains are very visible and public. That's not his thing anymore.
> 
> Anyway, to start off with, a lil history for you guys in case you were curious. If you're not, skip this bit. Last chapter took place during the Buccaneering period, which was basically first-wave piracy when everyone was getting 'letters of marque' from the British Crown which basically gave them permission to rob the shit out of merchant ships as long as they were Spanish because the British were jealous bastards who got all pissy over the fact that the Spanish got to South America first.
> 
> There are two other main waves of piracy - the pirate round and the post-Spanish Succession period, which I assume takes place sometime after the Spanish War of Succession which I supposedly learned about in World History but remember absolutely nothing about. Moving on.
> 
> Last chapter ended in 1655, which is only a couple years after the start of the buccaneering period. Around then piracy was mostly focused in the Caribbean [I can never spell that right on the first try], 'cause that's where everything was going down. So it's going to be a while before we get past that, but whatever.
> 
> Loki's not going to be a pirate forever, but it's interesting enough that he'll stick with it for a while. I know randomly stealing from people and killing them [sometimes] isn't exactly his M.O., even if they did steal/kill first. But he's more in the transitional stage between Loki and Trickster than full-blown Trickster at the moment.
> 
> In case you were wondering; Peter Harris, Laurens de Graaf, and Anne Dieu-Le-Vieut are all real people who existed during this time. I've tried to keep it as historically accurate as possible, which you can probably tell.
> 
> What else? Warning for a description of a slave ship - again, historically accurate, but those things were fucking despicable as the trade itself. Nasty stuff. So is what happens to the crew but that might be easier to read in the name of fictional vengeance.
> 
> As a note, the beginning of this chapter has a soundtrack. Do yourselves a favor and look up Taylor Davis's cover of 'He's a Pirate' because a) it makes my writing EVEN COOLER [impossible, I know] and b) she is an excellent violinist and I am still amazed at how good her covers sound.

_1670 AD_

_Somewhere in the Caribbean_

The ocean was foggy that day, mist drifting over the surface of the water, but the ship was still clearly visible - red-and-yellow flag flying high on the mast.

It was also easily within their reach.

Loki grinned from his position in the rigging. He yanked sharply on the rope, sending the fake flag plummeting. The black one slid up to take its place. The skull gleamed white in the sunlight.

They cut through the water easily. Loki fired a warning shot across the deck of the other ship. The pistol sat easily in his hand. He could see the merchant's crew jump out of the way. He _loved_ this part - the threatening posturing. Every bit of it was calculated to be terrifying.

The goal was to get the merchant to give up and surrender, of course.

"Get those hooks up!" The captain bellowed. Grappling hooks were snatched up from crewmates belowdecks. The first mate hauled at the wheel, sending them skimming towards the galleon.

One of the galleon's guns fired. It punched a hole in one of the fore triangular sails, causing the nearest pirate to swear.

"Give 'em answering fire!" The deck rumbled underneath them. Loki could feel the force of the cannon firing. This was what he'd found as the best humanity had to offer - the thrill of a fight, no outsmarting your opponent, just needing to outgun them.

Normally he went for the latter, but he could see why humans liked this.

The hooks flew through the air and bit into the railing of the galleon. Loki shot the first person who tried to cut the ropes. The ships bumped into each other - impossible to miss with the guns. But there was too much of a risk of setting your own ship on fire.

It was man-to-man now.

Loki jumped off of the rigging.

He landed easily on the railing of the other ship, crouching to regain his balance. There was the barest gap of water in between the two ships. It was deep and dark, like the rest of the sea surrounding them.

The first man who tried to fight him tried to shove him into it.

Loki kicked him back easily, foot meeting face, hand going to his cutlass and drawing it out with a rasp of metal and a curse.

"Nice day for this!" Hollered one of his crewmates - Prescott - as he hurtled over the gap.

"You'd think so!" Loki shouted back at the Englishman, blocking a strike from his opponent. "I doubt you've seen the sun much!"

"Ah, you're just flirting now!"

Another came at him from behind, and Loki whirled, pistol jammed into the second one's gut. He choked, hands groping at the wound, and Loki pushed him over the side.

The first one shouted in rage and came at him with his fists, but Loki put the cutlass to his throat. "Ah, ah. Stay down."

The man froze. His gaze was heavy with resentment, but there was more than a little fear in it as well.

Oh, yes. Loki was very content with piracy.

* * *

"This is it?" The captain shouted when he got onboard. "This is all the resistance you can muster? _Petty_ men with their petty weapons? Give me a real fight!"

None of them took him up on the offer. Probably because they were all tied to the masts of the ship and unable to do anything.

Loki was leaning against the side of the ship, idly playing with a dirk he'd taken from one of their captives. It was surprisingly sharp, and easy to carve with. The captain always did this - shoved their victory in the losing crew's face while they grabbed whatever they felt like taking from the other ship's haul.

It wasn't much this time - mostly textiles, or at least the materials that the people back in Spain would use to make textiles to sell back to the colonies - but they could always sell those back in port.

"Goes on for a bit, doesn't he?" Muttered Saxe (a Frenchman dodging jail) when they finally crossed back to their own ship.

Loki made a noncommittal noise, sticking the dirk into his belt.

"Listen," Saxe said. "When we get back to port, I'm finding a new ship."

Intriguing. Loki raised his eyebrows. "You're that tired of his speeches?"

"Captain attacks everyone," Saxe reminded him. "I'm not in for that. I'm not in for loosing my life just 'cause he wants a thrill."

Fair point. "Why tell me?"

"You seem like the kind of fellow who'd come with me," Saxe said. "Prescott's already agreed."

"And you'd like me to come with you?" Loki questioned.

"I've seen you fight. If I'm gonna get out of a fight alive, I know having you on my side is one way to guarantee that," Saxe replied.

Loki's fingers tapped at the hilt of his cutlass. He had to admit that he was flattered. And there were plenty of pirates out there that went for the more deceptive side of the trade..."Good things come in threes, I suppose," he said. "Alright. When we get into port, I'll see what happens."

* * *

Loki, Saxe, and Prescott were three of those who volunteered to take what they'd stolen into port and sell it.

They split off from the other two under the guise of finding other places to sell what they had. They'd unloaded some of it already on other merchants - coins jingled in Loki's pocket, taken from the collective payment with a sleight of hand and a little magic.

Neither of his companions had wanted to risk stealing from their ex-captain, but they were _pirates._ What was one more act of thievery?

There were plenty of pirate ships docked in Port Royal. Most were privateers of some kind - some pretended to be privateers, or it was simply ignored that they weren't.

It wasn't like it made a difference whether they were licensed by the Crown or not - they were all doing the same thing, and they were all probably eventually going to have bounties on their heads for it.

It was that topic which had come up between Saxe and Prescott.

"The Crown's going to change her mind eventually," Prescott was saying. "There's too much pressure from Madrid."

"Fuck Madrid," Saxe scoffed. "They've got no leverage over England."

"They have political leverage, the colonies give them more resources. They could cut off trade with England."

"Fucking bad for your country, then. I don't see why you're worried."

"Because it's my country, you bloody idiot."

"You're a pirate," Saxe retorted. "Your own country only tolerates you because we bring in Spanish gold."

"Would you concentrate?" Loki interrupted the burgeoning argument. "We're looking for a ship, not worrying over politics."

"A ship looking for a new crew is easier said than found," Prescott said.

"Pirates change their crews all the time," Loki said. "We just have to look in the right places."

* * *

When they did find a new ship, he told the captain that his name was Thomas Martel.

"I thought your name was Sinclair," Saxe said later, making it sound like a question.

"Maybe my real name is Thomas," Loki said.

"Is it?" Prescott asked.

"Do you really expect me to answer that?"

* * *

The captain, Peter Harris, was a privateer who later managed to get them tangled up with some 'Pacific Expedition'.

Loki could have been fine with that, except he'd set fire to a mining town after stealing as much as he could take and forced the crew downstream, where they ran into a _very_ well-equipped Spanish fighting force in Panama City.

And, of course, he immediately had to start fighting the Spanish.

Loki swept a Spaniard's legs out from under him and sent him sprawling, falling over the edge of the dock and into the water. Saxe, who had been fighting said Spaniard a second ago, barely took the time to nod in thanks before he was going for someone else.

Loki probably shouldn't have taken a moment to breathe, pausing in the midst of the fight (they were horribly outnumbered and he was considering just giving up and going back to Port Royal) and trying to ignore the salt-sea smell of blood and ocean water.

He might have avoided getting stabbed in the chest if he hadn't.

Loki staggered, groping at his chest, feeling whoever was behind him withdraw the blade. He heard Prescott - maybe Saxe - shout in horror.

The man who had stabbed him looked just as horrified when Loki turned around to face him.

" _Vámr_ ," Loki snarled, seizing the front of the man's shirt. He could tell that he was still bleeding - staining the front of his shirt red, and probably the back as well. "You think I'll die that easy?"

The man joined his companions in the water.

Loki left in a fit of disgust and irritation (being stabbed was hardly comfortable).

* * *

(It was only later that he remembered Saxe and Prescott, and figured that tracking them down again would make more problems than it would tie up loose ends.

But he did anyway, even if they didn't know it.

They _were_ the first humans that had really captured his attention).

* * *

_1694 AD_

Laurens de Graaf may have been a notorious pirate, but it was Anne who made Loki join their crew.

Anne Dieu-Le-Vieut, the woman who drew a gun on Laurens in a swordfight and impressed him so much that he married her. A female pirate was a rarity, especially one so well regarded by the crew.

Loki was forced to admit, within a week, that she deserved every bit of her reputation.

Fierce in a fight and so underestimated by most of those they faced that she was the quicker than even Loki at tricking someone into a position where they had no choice but to surrender.

It's also shortly after joining Anne's crew (and it is Anne's crew more than it is Laurens' - they respect him as Captain, ceremonially, but it's her they fear a little bit) that he has a direct encounter with a slave ship.

Half the crew was on the deck, ready for a fight. The lookout's telescope was jammed to his eye - and then he called down to them. "No, sir! It's just a blackbirder!"

Loki frowned. Blackbirder? The crew muttered around him, disappointed in the apparent lack of any good prey.

Blackbirder. Loki cast around in his memory and recalled a mention of it he'd heard once before.

Slave ship.

He looked for a long time at the ship on the horizon.

* * *

The crew were asleep, and as soon as Loki got close enough to the Frenchman at the wheel, he was asleep too.

At night the ocean seemed even more mysterious, dark depths that Loki could easily plunge through. He idly wondered if Jormungand was down there - the Midgard serpent, coiled around the Earth in the depths of the sea.

There would be no way to tell unless he went to look. Loki shook the wandering thoughts from his mind and concentrated on steering.

The ship drew closer, close enough for Loki to step between decks and shove one foot idly at le Graaf's ship, sending it back the way it came.

There was no one on deck who saw Loki, invisibly, make his way below the deck.

It was pitch black below. There weren't any lamps besides one that illuminated a door that led to the captain's quarters - the captain, dead asleep, didn't notice his door creaking open.

Silently, Loki went deeper.

* * *

They were kept like _cargo._

Shelves of _people_ laid out next to each other like bolts of cloth, shackled so they could barely move. Loki didn't know how they were supposed to eat, much less do any of the _other_ things humans needed to do.

He could barely make out individual shapes, dark skin blending with the utter blackness of the hold.

He didn't need to see them to know that there were too many kept like this.

Misery was ground into the very grain of the ship. A litany of desperate prayers to gods too far away to hear, people's last words, hunger and fear and pain.

There was more than one level of this kind of horror. All the way down to the bottom of the ship, barely any room spared for food. Loki didn't doubt that most of the food went to the crew and not their _'cargo'._

He could tell what had been done without even looking for it. He didn't doubt that the people trapped in the hold had learned better than to scream or shout, no matter what their captors did to them.

No matter how they were violated.

The pure _wrongness_ of it overwhelms Loki in a second and he was gripping the doorframe so hard splinters were digging into his hands and the wood was cracking. He'd seen slavery before - he hadn't been totally ignorant, the Vikings had kept slaves too, they'd certainly done abhorrent things with the people unfortunate enough to be enslaved - but this was a whole new level of repugnance.

This was taking it too far.

This was pure human arrogance at its absolute worst, and for a moment it was Gabriel standing there and he understood why Lucifer had refused to love them.

The thought sent him reeling a second later - how could he _agree_ with that, with _Lucifer,_ even for the briefest moment? He refused to go with Lucifer, he'd loved the humans like he was supposed to-

He couldn't love all of them.

He didn't need to.

Loki separated his hand from the door, splinters pulling themselves out of his skin with a minor push.

These humans weren't worthy of anything he might have once been obliged to give them.

* * *

The captain, still dead asleep, only woke for a second when Loki slit his throat.

He didn't feel guilty for feeling pleased as he watched the man thrash and choke.

* * *

The lookout suffered the same fate, plummeting out of the crow's nest and onto the deck. The noise his body made startled the rest of the crew, sending them all to their feet. In a minute there were three of them in the crow's nest, but Loki wasn't any more.

There were three men down below, half-asleep and talking to each other in an attempt to stay awake. Loki killed the first and the second before the third managed to realize that something was wrong.

The third Loki pushed out of one of the portholes, chains locked around his wrists that he'd borrowed from the hold. They were long enough that most of the man's body dragged in the water, the gag in his mouth preventing him from calling out for help.

Loki wondered how long it would be before his crewmates found him, and he left magic lingering around the door that would make sure no one thought to check in there for a while.

The rest of the crew were panicking, running blind, trying to figure out where everyone else was. It was the first time Loki was really, truly glad for the superstition of pirates - this time they were right, there was an evil spirit in their midst, and none of them were making it out alive.

He made that very, very clear before the last one died.

It was worth it to see the terror in the man's eyes.

* * *

Loki followed the ship after he turned it back the way it had come.

He was careful not to let it dock in the slave port again. He'd guided it most of the way back across the Atlantic - leaving it adrift in the ocean would have been completely pointless, even with the kidnappers dead.

The ship was left empty, sails crumpled on the deck as its occupants fled. They'd find their ways home eventually - if not, they were certainly better off here.

He went looking for Anansi.

Loki hadn't seen the trickster god in ages - centuries, really - not since the last time he'd been in Africa. Then, there had been towering empires that spanned the continent, but now...

There were still empires, but they were hardly the empires of old.

And Anansi was not pleased to see him.

"What are you doing here?"

What _did_ Loki think he could do? "I saw the Middle Passage," he said.

That was the wrong thing to say. Anansi looked furious.

"Don't tell me you're here to _apologize,_ " he spat. "Don't give me any bullshit about being _sorry._ If you're so upset about slavery, where were you when it started?"

"I didn't know it was like this." It was a pathetic excuse, and Loki knew it, but he didn't have anything better.

"Sure," Anansi retorted. "And now you've come to make up for it? For the wrongs all your old _followers_ are doing to us."

Loki refrained from saying that they weren't his followers - he had fewer now, but it would be a lie to say that there were none in the places the slave traders had come from.

He wasn't going to lie to Anansi, not now.

"If I could," he said eventually. "But I don't think I could make up for what these people are doing if I spent a thousand years trying."

Anansi glared, but it was at the floor, not at Loki. "They're helping them," he said. "Rival tribes, handing over their enemies to be sold and traded away. Humans disgust me."

At the moment, Loki agreed with him. "At least in the West yours are safer."

"Do you think that makes a difference?" Anansi snapped. "They fight with their neighbors the same as everyone else. If they get captured, who's to say that they won't end up on the coast? Your people think they're _entitled_ to this, that mine _deserve_ slavery because they are lesser."

"Humans are good at making excuses for themselves."

"And that makes it _right_?"

"Of course not," Loki said, stung.

Anansi sighed, heavily and angrily. "You don't understand," he said.

"I-"

"Just _go,_ Loki."

* * *

He looked for the gods he'd missed before.

The last time Loki had been in Africa, he hadn't sought out places of worship - he hadn't wanted to anger local gods, get run out of wherever he was by territorial deities.

Now, he was purposefully seeking them out. Their names, their legacies, their stories - whatever he could find.

Loki had toppled a pantheon before, but now he was determined to keep these ones going.

Orunmila, Obatala, Yemaja, Agayu. Oshun, Ozain, Oya, Oxosi.

Olapa, Neiterkob, Meme, Aso, Ala, Mawu. Olorun, Azrail, Bayanni, Hyel Taku.

Too many pantheons, too many gods, but Loki was determined to keep them all straight. There had to be something that was preserved - an entire continent's gods could not die out because of one idiotic breed of humans' determination to not pay people to do work for them.

Tsui, Waaqa, Osanyin, Orula, Njemakati, Mukunga M'bura.

Mamlambo, Coti, Mwambwa, Chuku, Pemba, Uhlanga, Eshu Elegba.

Anansi.

Loki knew some of them - other Trickster gods, ones he'd come into contact with only occasionally. Sometimes as friends, sometimes not. Most of the time not. But with Tricksters nothing lasted long between them. They were too focused on what came next - the next trick, the next party, the next human who might stumble across them.

Anansi knew all the stories, but Anansi couldn't help when the people who needed those stories were across a sea and too far away to hear him.

Too far away for him to do anything for them.

Trickster gods were limited by what seemed like the most arbitrary circumstances.

Anansi could have gone, true. He could have left behind his home, gone across the sea, weakened himself to tell those people the stories they would be forbidden from having.

But tricksters were just as selfish as those they tricked.

So Anansi didn't leave.

But Loki had been less of a god and more of a regular trickster, lately.

And he had no qualms about going across the sea.

* * *

_1700 AD_

It was a bit of a surprise to come back to the Caribbean and find that Anne had, apparently, just been released from being kept as a hostage for three years, but Loki had missed a few years' worth of news while he was on the other side of the Atlantic.

More interesting was the restlessness of the northern colonies. The British had managed to royally screw over their relations with their foreign subjects - the news had made its way as far south as the Caribbean.

Some people thought there was going to be a war. Loki doubted it - the British Crown had too firm of a hand over the people they ruled.

Then again...

There were slaves in the colonies, too, so he wouldn't be breaking his new resolution. He'd just be multitasking. The New World was new, after all - to him at least - and there was plenty of it he hadn't explored yet.

Piracy had lost its shine, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should end it there...more of a serious chapter than I'd intended, really.
> 
> If you were wondering about the gods I named, I'd look at godchecker . com. They have pretty good resources and an amazing list of African deities; they don't separate by pantheon, though, just by alphabetical order, but you can click on the name and get a little more info about them if you're curious. I just looked up 'african pantheons' and it's the second result.
> 
> Anyway. Read and review!


	16. Coyote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize I'd updated this on ffnet but not here. Whoops?
> 
> Apparently I made the Saxe/Prescott thing a little more confusing than I meant to - basically, Loki went and kept an eye on them, but as far as they're concerned they never saw him again. Make sense?
> 
> I'm glad you guys appreciate all the research that goes into this, anyway. It's a lot of effort and mostly involves a billion different tabs open at the same time.
> 
> As for the various African pantheons and their gods...well, Loki means well, but I'm afraid he ends up kind of dropping the ball on that one. No one's perfect. I thought I'd warn you about that since I didn't want to seem like I forgot to write that in.
> 
> As a note, I refer to several different Native American tribes in this chapter. The names they go by today are most certainly not the ones they used to refer to themselves, so up here is where I'm going to provide brief - well, not translations, but just to let you know which ones I'm talking about. Kawiak refers to the Pueblo people, who lived around where New Mexico is today, and that is where the Spanish set up base when they were moving up from Mexico into the modern-day US. Ndee refers to the Apache people. The Chahiksichahiks and Jiwere are the Pawnee and Otoe tribes, respectively.
> 
> Mexico originally owned most of that land around the Great Plains, like the four states that make up four corners and California, Oregon, etc. At least, until America forced them to hand it over in the treaty that ended the Spanish-American War. The incident where the Spanish, along with their native guides, were attacked really did happen - it was called the Villasur Expedition.
> 
> I'm not going to get too into Native American issues, though, for a simple reason: I am not Native American. I'm aware of how much white people fucked shit up for them, but it's not really my place to write something that focuses on that because I've never personally experienced any of the problems that they faced.
> 
> Not that anyone who faced these problems in the 1700s is still alive, but you know what I mean.

* * *

_1700 AD_

_Somewhere around the Mississippi_

The British colonies were more interesting than Loki had expected.

Not the people, of course. The people were as boring as any human.

But (in an idiot move, honestly) he hadn't expected the gods.

The coyote shot out of the woods and managed to trip Loki before he even registered that it was heading towards him. It took Loki a second to turn around, knife sliding into his hand, but he was greeted by one pressed against his gut just as quickly.

The man, no longer coyote-shaped, raised his eyebrows at Loki, glancing down at the knife Loki had against his throat. Loki recognized what he was in the same moment that the other recognized him.

"Trickster," Loki said aloud, stepping away. The point of the knife sticking into his stomach eased away as Loki put his own down.

"Since when do those ones have trickster gods?" The other god jerked his head in the direction of the nearest colony village - the one Loki had been heading to.

"Since when do the ones over here have any?" Loki gave the other god a once-over. "And a shapeshifter as well." He'd gone from coyote-shaped to human-shaped easily, which didn't come without practice. Loki would know.

"As well?" The other god scoffed. "You don't look like anything but a man to me."

"And you'd be willing to bet on that?"

The other god immediately leaned closer. "What kind of bet?"

* * *

His name was Coyote, and he was a terrible gambler.

"Bird!" He shouted, and Loki leaped off the ground, the paws he'd taken on turning into feathers in a second. He whirled around, seeing Coyote shoot upwards after him.

Loki had to dodge the hawk-shaped god's talons, arcing around back towards the ground.

"What the hell!"

"A raven?" Coyote demanded, sharp and high as the bird he was imitating. He cuffed Loki with one wing as he soared past.

"You said bird!" Loki shifted, the edges of his wings rounding and his plumage lightening.

"A _r_ _aven,_ " Coyote sniffed, perching delicately on a tree branch that was only just big enough to support him.

"What do you have against ravens?" Loki fluttered down onto a branch in a tree across from him. It would probably be a bad idea to change shape this high up - there was no way these branches would hold the weight of his natural form.

"Raven," Coyote said. "He's an asshole."

"Another god?"

"An _asshole._ "

Loki laughed, short and sharp in the form he was wearing. A commotion from somewhere else in the woods attracted the attention of both of them, the two bird-shaped beings looking down towards the ground with sharp eyes.

"You've disturbed it," an accented - and _human_ \- voice complained.

"T'was only a bird, what does it matter? We need something bigger." A second, older voice replied. The humans - two men, Loki could see, were creating a truly astounding amount of noise just by walking through the undergrowth.

"Like what?"

"A deer, at least. Something that'll last us well enough that we won't need to hunt for a long while."

They were both carrying guns, but Loki knew very well by now how long it took muskets to reload. It was impressive that they had guns in the first place. He hadn't thought the small outpost town was that important.

Then again, they did have to protect themselves.

There were old gods out and about.

Loki made eye contact with Coyote, sure that the other god had the same idea.

The glint in Coyote's eyes confirmed it.

* * *

_1720 AD_

_Pawnee/Pueblo land_

Loki didn't bother to introduce himself. "I hear there's a bunch of Spaniards in your territory."

Coyote growled low in his throat. "They came up from bothering the Aztecs. Greedy bastards. It was bad enough that those other Europeans were there." He gave Loki a baleful look.

Loki put his hands up. "Only place I know of my followers going was much farther north than this, and that was ages ago. Want to go fuck them up?"

"I was going to leave and do that on my own if you didn't show up, anyway."

* * *

They met the Spaniards long before any of the expedition knew they were there.

"They've got native allies," Loki said as he landed, barely waiting until after he'd finished trading feathers for smooth skin.

"Kawiak," Coyote said. "I saw."

"Kawiak?"

"I don't know what ridiculous name you pale people gave them. They're Kawiak. I saw a couple of Ndee, too, but not nearly as many."

"What the hell was the point of making me scout them out, then?" Loki grumbled.

"How many invaders?"

"Not counting yours? Forty, if I counted right. They've got someone who might be African with them." Loki had hovered over him for a little while, whispering tales of Anansi and the others into his dreams, but there were other gods who had a possible claim on the man, so he left it at that.

"Then the Kawaik outnumber them."

"I wouldn't count on getting them to turn on the Spaniards," Loki warned. "They've gotten to used to them, and they're working together. They know what'll happen if they turn on the Spanish and then lose."

"They shouldn't have joined them in the first place," Coyote growled, and stood abruptly. "There are others of mine nearby. I'll see what help I can get."

"What are we doing?" It was interesting to see what Coyote could come up with, and Loki didn't mind being told what to do as much when it came from a fellow Trickster. He didn't necessarily _do_ what he was told, but semantics.

"Beating the fuck out of them. What else?"

It wasn't as though the Spaniards would take the hint if they were any subtler about it.

* * *

There were other tribes in the area, who were not at all pleased at the idea of Spaniards moving in, and it wasn't difficult for Coyote to persuade them to do something about it. The Chahiksichahiks and Jiwere banded together to help, and a few French traders looking to protect 'their' territory offered their aid. The humans accepted it, but Loki was sure Coyote was giving the traders nightmares while they slept.

The Spanish had surely noticed the growing number of the two tribes, who had called in all the members in the area to consolidate their forces, but they hadn't done anything - yet. Loki took a brief trip to see what they might be planning and came back to find that Coyote's new allies had freed a Chahiksichahik held as a slave in the Spanish camp.

Apparently, Loki's commotion in the camp (what? He couldn't help it) had caused enough of a distraction that the man had been snatched out of the camp without anyone noticing. He seemed relieved to be out from under the Spanish commander's thumb, and Loki had no doubt that part of that relief was from the fact that he'd been captured, not run away. If the Spanish captured him back, he could plead that angle.

"What of the Spanish?"

"Nothing," Loki told Coyote. "I caused a little trouble when I went over, but they saw me. They're not going to attack, not yet. They moved camp, though, so they're definitely worried about one from you."

"Tonight, then," Coyote said decisively. "They won't be expecting it right after you came through."

Loki grinned. "Of course." This was going to be _fun._

* * *

"Well," Loki said, standing in the middle of the general chaos that had formerly been the Spanish camp. "I think that went well."

"They left." Coyote kicked at a collapsed tent. "I count that as a victory for sure."

"I'm already bored," Loki announced. "What next?" Coyote had to be rubbing off on him. He didn't think he used to be this impatient.

Coyote shrugged. "We could follow them."

"No, I'm bored of Spaniards." Loki glanced upwards, hands curling in a nervous, unintentional movement at the faint rumble of thunder that threatened a storm in the distance.

Coyote's sharp eyes caught the movement. "What? Don't like thunder?"

"You wouldn't either, if you'd met Thor," Loki said dryly, glancing away and faking disinterest. "What next?"

He wasn't expecting Coyote to lunge towards him, grab him by the arm and laughingly drag him towards the storm on the horizon. Loki froze, then tried to wrench his arm away, but Coyote was fast and the rain was already soaking the two of them.

Coyote laughed, spreading his arms. Loki flinched, frozen to the spot in the middle of the storm, _not this again_ -

He changed shape in an instant, streaking away, finding the nearest shelter the forest offered. It was a hole in the ground, a burrow that stank of rabbit in this shape. Loki pressed himself against the back of it, heart beating wildly.

Damn. _Damn._ He'd thought this was _over._ He'd been _fine._ So of course now, just when he'd found Coyote, someone he could be freer with than any human, something like _this_ had to happen.

Damn Odin.

Leaves crunched outside, under the heavy patter of rain. There was a heavier step and then a growl, and whatever had been approaching fled quickly enough to be the rabbit that had lived there.

It was undoubtedly Coyote outside. Loki growled when he poked his nose inside. Surprisingly, it made Coyote back off.

Loki stayed pressed against the back of the burrow, flinching at every drop of rain that splashed in, and cursing himself for being such a sensitive _idiot._

* * *

_Still 1720 AD_

_Greece_

"Not to be rude," Hermes said, "but why are you in my house?"

"America bored me," Loki said.

"You were barely there for half a century."

"I bore easily."

If Loki had been looking at his friend, he probably would've seen Hermes rolling his eyes. As he was resolutely staring out the window at the ocean in the distance, it was really just an educated guess at what Hermes was doing.

"I thought something like a new country to fuck with would hold your attention for a little longer." Hermes's footsteps get louder, then slow as he gets closer. "You - have you been hiding those scars?"

Loki scowled at the pane of glass that served as the window. "So what?"

"An illusion to hide them isn't going to make them vanish," Hermes said.

"I know _that._ "

"Are you just going to hide it forever?" Hermes settled next to Loki, as skeptical as he could manage - which, after all this time spent around Loki, was pretty intensely skeptical.

"Maybe," Loki muttered.

"It's not that bad."

"Yeah, and it _really_ helps make a good first impression."

Hermes kicked him - lightly, which was just rude. It wasn't like kicking hard would _hurt_ him. "You didn't mind it before."

" _Before_ was the Caribbean. No one there cared what scars you had." If anything, it had gained him respect, for having healed so well when it looked like someone had thrown acid on him. Loki's mouth twisted at the memory, but he managed to keep himself still.

"Something happened," Hermes observed.

"Be quiet."

The window offered a faint reflection. When Hermes reached out, Loki could see the way the illusion shivered, skin warping-

He wrenched Hermes's wrist away from his face. " _Don't._ "

"At least stay," Hermes said, letting his hand fall - or he would have, but Loki couldn't seem to let go. "Don't wander off in the middle of the night because of whatever's happened to you."

"No promises," Loki muttered.

* * *

_1722 AD_

_Still Greece_

All things considered, it took very little time for Fenris and Slepnir to show up.

"Faðir," Fenris said, disapprovingly.

"Since when am I 'Faðir'?" Loki asked. "I thought it was 'dad' now. It's simpler."

"It's Faðir when you _don't_ _tell us_ you're back," Slepnir said. "You went to Hermes first?"

"Hermes doesn't try to baby me," Loki told them, and Fenris scoffed like it was some kind of ridiculous claim.

"It's called _caring_ about you."

"I can take care of myself."

"That's not what we're worried about," Slepnir said, eyes big and earnest, and _damnit._

Hermes was probably laughing, wherever he'd vanished to in order to give the three of them privacy.

"Fine," Loki said grudgingly. "Stay here, if you want."

* * *

_1730 AD_

_Britain  
_

It was only due to Mercury's particularly unfortunate timing that they had to leave Greece, but it would have been awkward to live in Hermes's place without him there, anyway.

Mercury went west, to Rome (predictably) so Loki went just a little farther west and a little farther north.

Britain was rainy and perpetually cloudy. Jormungand would have liked it, Loki thought. The wetness of the weather, mostly.

Fenris did not appreciate it in the least.

"Why are we here," he grumbled, trying to wipe water off the fur of his cape. The water obligingly hurled itself onto the ground, splashing into a puddle and sending up a few white sparks as well.

"Because I felt like it," Loki said. "I haven't been here in ages, anyway." That was true enough. He'd never spent much time in Britain, for whatever reason. The only reservation he'd had about traveling was avoiding the Middle East (too many memories) so he really wasn't sure why.

"Well, I _don't_ like it."

"It's not that bad," Slepnir said cheerfully. He'd discreetly talked to a good deal of horses they'd seen along the way, so of course he was more cheerful than Fenris was. Wolves were somewhat lacking along well-traveled roads.

"You can take your opinion and-"

"Oh look, there it is," Loki interrupted him quickly. Trails of smoke wound through the sky in the distance - they were a fair bit closer to London than he'd thought. "What do you say we get into the city and then you can argue all you want without fear of being overheard?"

Fenris muttered something indecipherable.

" _Hey_ ," Slepnir said. "That's _rude. And_ a lie."

"I'm going to make you two accompany each other everywhere if that's what it's gonna take to make you get along," Loki warned.

Both of them subsided into sulky grumbling, Slepnir marginally less so than his brother. Loki privately sighed over bringing them _both_ along. Fenris, apparently, still wasn't over how much time Slepnir had spent in Asgard.

They had a lot to get through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I ended it a bit abruptly, but it's been so long I really have no idea where I was going with that.
> 
> I really am sorry it's taken so long to update this! I have a lot of other stories in progress but I will do my absolute best to finish this. Promise.
> 
> Comment, please!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are seriously appreciated!


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